


Say That You'll Stay

by speakslow



Category: IT (1990), IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Early Twenties, F/M, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Humor, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lucky Seven Bonding, M/M, Minor Drug Use, POV Richie Tozier, homophobic parent, summer job AU, they cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-01-22 05:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12474044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speakslow/pseuds/speakslow
Summary: Richie works at a shitty amusement park for the summer and meets some new friends. Set in 1997





	1. Chapter 1

He took the job because he was too broke to take time off during the summer before his senior year.  A two month position with steady hourly wages plus free room and board sounded like the perfect deal for any struggling college student. Thirty minutes into his first day, though, he already regretted everything.

“Okay people, how are we doing this morning?! Welcome to the _official_ 1997-season of Monster Funworld Employee Orientation!!” A chubby blond woman with an outdated hairstyle was smiling _hard as fuck_ as she spoke to the group of less-than-enthused new employees. Richie’s eyes scanned around the room to see if anyone else looked as utterly grossed out and embarrassed as he felt while sitting through this shit storm of false joy. His eyes stopped on a kid who looked like he could have been too young to have a summer job that required staying in a dorm. He was the only one in the room who seemed to be paying attention to this broad’s speech, taking notes on a little pad. And Richie was immediately intrigued.

They were all seated in a small conference room, dressed in the same purple and black uniforms, lambs waiting for the slaughter. And although Richie had somewhat of a flair for the dramatic, slaughter wasn't quite the correct word to describe what he witnessed. The preferred term would be brainwashing. Legitimate propaganda that instructed them how to act, what to say, when to piss, who not to piss-off and most of all, to smile _hard as fuck_.

After what seemed like a million years worth of listening to this woman--Judith--yammer on about rules and regulations they were instructed to split into groups to work on team-building exercises. Richie tried to position himself so that his lanky ass would be in the same group as Enthusiastic Boy, as he’d so affectionately named him in his head. Enthusiastic Boy was cute. He was a short little nugget with big brown eyes, a baby face and a fucking fanny pack. Richie hadn't seen anyone under the age of sixty wear a fanny pack since he was fifteen years old.

“Okay before we start with this, are there any questions?”

Richie raised his hand at warp speed. “Yes, and while we’re still getting to know one another, let’s all say our name before we speak, okay?” Richie fought the urge to roll his eyes. This woman spoke like she was telling kindergarteners how to conduct themselves as they lined up to get cookies, instead of leading a bunch of twenty-something trainees.

“Uh yeah, I’m Richie. And um, I just wanted to ask, exactly what sort of clientele _go_ to a spooky themed amusement park in the middle of the summer?” He heard someone snicker and glanced over to see a pretty red haired girl covering her mouth.

_Bingo, that’s my new friend._

Judith was less than amused. “Well we have all manner of visitors, but you’re correct we are quite a niche operation. Okay so, let’s get into groups of four. Everyone introduce yourselves for a few minutes and then we’ll go through an exercise together.”

The red haired girl sidled up to Richie. “What’s up, buddy.”

He grinned at her, “I knew whoever in this room laughed was going to be the only person I could possibly call a friend in this sad, sad, nightmare I've gotten myself into.”

She stuck out her hand, “I’m Beverly.”

“Nice to meet you Beverly, I’m Richie, but you already knew that…" His eyes searched the room. "And who else should be on our team, the fuckin’ _dream team_ …" His eyebrows went up. "Hey, Fanny Pack!” The short kid had been staring at the floor as though something really interesting was written all over it, but at Richie’s teasing nickname, his head snapped up. Richie motioned him to come over to them. Bev wrung her hands like she was pleading him. Fanny Pack and/or Enthusiastic Boy: he sighed deeply before crossing the room to join them.

He didn't meet Richie’s eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

Richie couldn't keep the dopey grin off his face. He really wanted to just take this kid in a headlock and mess up his hair, he was that cute. 

"Well, what can we call you instead?” Beverly asked, and flashed him a sympathetic smile.

“I’m Eddie,” he muttered, giving Richie a seconds-worth of eye contact before going back to studying the floor.

_Oh God, this kid is going to absolutely kill me. Contain yourself, Tozier._

A slim curly haired boy came up to them. “Hey, so I’m like the odd man out, so can I be in your group or what?” His tone was snarky, as though if they told him _‘no, you can’t be in our group’_ he wouldn't have given half of a shit.

“You’re perfect.” Richie said, pointing at him.

“Actually my name is Stan, but I see how you might get confused,” he deadpanned.

Richie cracked up laughing, “Oh my God, you see? Perfect.”

The four of them spent a few minutes getting to know one another, with Richie’s main question to each of them being “What the fuck were you thinking when you took this job?” The answer across the board was that they were all broke. Stan and Bev were both going into their Junior year of college and Eddie his Sophomore year. “Oh, so you’re the youngin’ of our group, Eddie Spaghetti?”

“Don’t call me that. And no, I’m not. I’m twenty-two. I was held back in grade school because I was sickly when I was a kid so I’m a little behind,” he mumbled, looking embarrassed.

Richie couldn't help himself going gooey for this kid, and he gave him a soft smile. “So we’re the same age, coolness Eddie Spa- sorry. I’ll try my best to not call you that.”

Judith called attention and they had to listen to her instructions for each activity. The first icebreaker was called _Pennies_. They were given a cup of pennies, and they had to pick three, read off the year on the coin and then tell the group about something interesting that had happened in their life that year. Beverly told them that in 1996 she had gone to her first concert – Weezer. Stan shared that he had celebrated his Bar Mitzvah in 1989. Eddie rolled his eyes at the year on his coin and said quietly that he had seen _Back to the Future_ five times in the theater. Richie pulled his penny out of the plastic cup. “Uh, well. In 1993, I gave my first hand-job.” Beverly and Stan lost their shit laughing, but Eddie looked horrified.

The next event was a trust fall, and Richie wanted desperately to be paired with the scared, sad little fanny pack boy, but he was afraid he might kill him. He stood at least a foot taller than Eddie. Poking Beverly in the shoulder, he asked, “So, how are we doing this?”

Bev shrugged and said, “I think you and I should be together, because you would probably squash Eddie.”

“And I wouldn't squash _you_?”

“I’m five-foot nine, and you’re a bean-pole, I think I can handle you.”

He looked mock-horrified. “Oh lawdy, the lady’s got some sauce.”

Bev‘s face melted into a sarcastic smirk. “You have no idea. Now shut your trap and let’s do it already.”

After a bunch of word games and some silly elementary school craft project, they were finally allowed a break for lunch. The main appeal of this job for Richie had been the perks, and free food was a fantastic perk in his opinion. The trainee group walked together to the cafeteria and Richie lagged towards the back, watching all of them walk in a clump ahead of him. They looked like a vampire basketball team, black shorts and purple jersey tops.

Beverly tapped him on the arm and held up her cupped hand. A pack of smokes was tucked in there stealthily. She waggled it at him and raised her eyebrows. Richie didn't need to be convinced. “Fuck yes, let’s go.” They dipped out of the group and slipped out the side door, both unsure if they were even allowed to go take a smoke break.

“So were you serious,” Bev asked, lighting up and chucking the lighter over to him,  “about the hand-job?”

He caught the lighter easily. “As a heart attack. Why, was it too much?”

“It was fucking hilarious." she laughed, exhaling smoke. 

Bowing with a flourish, Richie gave her a flirty grin. “I’m bi though, so don’t count yourself out.”

“You wish.” She flicked ashes. “So what do you think of Eddie?”

_Am I that fucking transparent?_

Richie pretended to listen to something in the distance and looked away. “Uh, what do you mean?” 

 “Oh, come on, don’t bullshit me. He’s cute as a button. Aaaand, he was _looking_ at you.”

He almost broke his neck turning back to gape at her. “Get the fuck out of here.” Running his fingers through his dark curly hair self-consciously, he looked Bev dead in the eye. “You’re not fucking with me right?”

 “I swear to God, dude." Bev held up her hands. "He was giving you the side eye.”

Richie took a long drag on his smoke. “I think he’s the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life, but I’m trying to play it cool.”

“Well your _cool_ is very obvious. And your approach is very eighth grade”

* * *

 

Bev and Richie snuck back into the cafeteria, hoping that their absence hadn't been noticed. The trainees were scattered around the room, seated on white picnic tables that looked like they came out of a middle school. There were only sixteen people in the trainee group but the cafeteria could have housed a hundred. The pair swung by the buffet table to get food before spotting Stan and Eddie eating alone in the corner.

Richie went for the seat next to Eddie and attempted to cram his long legs under the table awkwardly. “This place discriminates against tall people.”

Eddie looked up from his lunch. “You smell like smoke.”

“Sorry, kid. But this temptress here, she’s to blame. I am just an innocent child who succumbed to peer pressure.”

Bev nodded and made a grave face. “It’s true, he used to think he’d go to Heaven one day, and then he met me.”

“Why are you guys so weird?” Stan shook his head. He looked like he thought that choosing to be in their group had been the biggest mistake of his life.

“Stan the Man, you were on the _dream team_ today. Buck up.” Richie heard Bev snap her fingers and he looked over. She was ever so subtly tipping her head and eyebrows towards Eddie. Richie turned his head, but the little nugget had already brought his eyes down to his plate.

After lunch they headed back to the training room to get their work assignments for the summer. Richie was assigned to the weight guessing booth, which was essentially a job where all that was required was being loud and entertaining. Judith thought he’d be perfect for it. Beverly and Eddie were both assigned to the ferris wheel, and Stan was stuck in one of the food service tents. Each of them were given a handbook along with safety pamphlets that weighed a ton and were instructed to walk over to the dormitory building to get their room assignments and check in for the night.

Richie picked up his duffel bag full of personal items from the back of the room where everyone had stashed their stuff upon arrival. As he hung the bag over his shoulder and across his body, he saw Eddie trying to figure out how he was going to carry all his stuff across the parking lot. It wasn't a long walk, but he was struggling to balance it all in his arms at once. “Need a hand with that?” Richie asked, indicating Eddie’s giant pile of paperwork and suitcase.

Eddie blinked at him blankly. “Really?”

“Well yeah, of course. We were on the _dream team_ together. And if I learned anything today,” Richie said, changing his voice to sound as though he were overcome with emotion, “it’s that teamwork... is the _second_ most important thing in this world.” He wiped a fake tear from his eye.

For the first time, Eddie smiled at him. “What’s the most important thing in the world? I mean, that you learned today?”

Richie picked up Eddie’s suitcase and swung it up onto his free shoulder and said, “ticket sales.” And Eddie laughed.

_There we go. Fucking bullseye._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to music, and the 3 songs I use in the chapter came on one right after another so I used it in the story. I'm a dork.

“Fuck.”

Richie hunted through his bag, desperate to find his contact case. He was notoriously bad at packing and usually ended up overlooking something crucial. If he couldn't find the case to store them overnight he’d be stuck wearing his glasses for the rest of the summer. He would also have to tell his dad he ruined another pair of contacts and he doubted that the old man would shell out the cash for a new set this time. “Come on. This is bullshit.”

“Hey, Tourette's. Can you dial it down a notch?” The rooms had been assigned alphabetically, and Richie and Stan were going to be roommates for the next two months. Prior to receiving the room assignments, the group had stood crammed in the small lobby of the dorm for entirely too much time. Judith had gone over basic house rules and expectations, which Richie just heard as a long list of things with the word _‘No’_  in front of them. _‘No Profanity’_ felt like a nail being hammered into his coffin. There was a midnight curfew and the employees worked the park in two shifts, 11 – 7 and 3 – 10.

“Y’know Stanley, I’m not just having an outburst here for nothing." Richie and Stan had been cohabiting the same space for fifteen minutes and were already annoyed with each other. "This is money that I’m going to have to spend to replace these if I can’t find a case.”

“Well why don’t you go knock on some doors and see if someone else has one," Stan groused, his eyes down on a magazine. "Or something you can use as a temporary fix until you can go to a pharmacy?”

The frosh employees had all been placed on the same floor in a block of rooms.  Shoving his glasses into the pocket of his shorts and grabbing the bottle of contact solution Richie opened the door to their room. “Which room is Bev in again? I know Eddie is in 203.” He'd carried Eddie’s bag to his door for him. The grateful look on Eddie's face was burned into Richie's memory along with his room number .

“207.”

Richie knocked on 207 and Bev answered right away. She'd already changed into pajama bottoms and a hoodie. Richie was still wearing his uniform. She looked at him like he had four heads. “Why the hell are you still wearing that thing?”

“Because I forgot to pack my fucking contact case and I've been spazzing about it for like twenty minutes.”

Bev cocked her head and looked at his face more closely. “You wear glasses? They probably hide your freckles.”

Richie didn't have time for this shit. “Listen, do you have anything I can use as a case? I have to be able to fill it with solution and close it."

“Lemme check.”

While Bev was looking he leaned up against the wall in the hallway and pressed his hand to his eyes. They were itchy but rubbing them would just make everything worse. He heard a soft voice next to him ask, “Are you okay?” Richie blinked a few times.

“Yeah, I’m okay, Eddie. I’m just trying to find something I can use as a contact case.” Bev popped her head out of her door and held up a small green container that looked beat up and kind of dirty. “Uh it has to be super clean. What was in that before?” Bev looked back and forth up and down the hallway and mouthed w _eed,_ while making a little smoking motion with her hands. Richie laughed. “No, I can’t used that.”

“I  have something you can use,” Eddie said quietly. He had been on his way to the bathroom with his shower caddy, wearing a faded Airwolf teeshirt and flannel pj pants. He reached inside of the plastic basket and pulled out a pill-of-the-day holder still in the package. “My mom gets me these kind of things, but I don’t use them.”

“Wow, that’s actually perfect, thank you. I know I never met her, but I love your mom.” Richie started walking towards the bathroom and gave a little wave over his shoulder. “Thanks anyway, Bev.”

The bathroom had four sinks and reminded Richie of his college dorm. He set to work at the first sink opening up the pill case and filling two of the hollows with solution, and then worked on getting the contacts out. Eddie brushed his teeth at the far sink, watching Richie in the mirror.

"So why does your mom buy you this stuff when you don’t use it? Did she buy you a fanny pack, too?”

Eddie spit in the sink with a sour look on his face. “Why do you have to be such a jerk?”

He got the second contact out and then spoke while rubbing his eyes, “I didn't say it to be a jerk, I’m genuinely curious. Pill holders and fanny packs are things my grandma uses.” He stopped rubbing. “Fuck I’m going to have to wear glasses on my first day of work.”

Cleaning off his toothbrush and sticking it into a case, Eddie blustered. “I have a fanny pack because I keep my rescue inhaler in there. If I just keep it in my pocket sometimes it gets lost. And I don’t care if you or anyone else thinks I’m a grandma for having one, either.”

Richie broke out into a big smile. “Eddie Spaghetti that’s the most you've ever said to me at once. I didn't know you could talk for that long.”

Eddie’s expression was blurry, but it sounded like he was smiling when he said, “I’m just shy around people I don’t know very well. You and Bev apparently are _not_.”

He took his glasses out of his pocket and put them on. They were rectangular maroon frames and they suited his angular face. “Don’t worry about having to wear those tomorrow,” Eddie said as he exited the bathroom, “they look nice on you. And stop calling me Eddie Spaghetti.”

* * *

The amusement park wasn't very popular. Monster Funworld was quite a literal name to describe the place. The rides were themed with mummies, vampires, creepy clowns that freaked Richie out although he’d never admit it. Most people only had a hankering to visit scary-type rides and events near Halloween, so the majority of the employees were sitting around, bored.

Richie’s first day wasn't going well. The job itself was simple, and even if he got nine out of ten guesses wrong, the value of the prizes were less than the cost to play. It was a no-lose system for the park and he was given free reign to act like a fool and crack stupid jokes as long as he could keep himself from saying expletives. But he hadn't thought about the fact that he had no base knowledge to actually _guess_ anyone’s weight, and that if you guess someone’s weight _too_ high, they might get pissed. He had pissed a couple people off. Luckily the park was pretty dead, so he spent most of his shift exchanging jabs with the kid in the booth across from him, a husky guy with a beard and bright blue eyes.

The time came for his lunch break and he crossed over to formally meet the person he’d been goofing off with all day. “Hey man. I’m Richie by the way.”

The kid had a really young face despite the facial hair. “I’m Ben, nice to meet you.” Richie was turning to make his way over to the ferris wheel to see Bev when he heard Ben ask, “Uh hey, that red haired girl, she’s your friend, right? I mean, I saw you guys hanging out during orientation.”

“Yes, she’s my buddy. I was just about to go visit her for lunch. Why don’t you come along?” Richie motioned to the complete lack of customers walking through their section. “I mean if you can pull yourself away from the mad rush of people eager to throw a dart at a balloon for the chance to win a five cent piece of shit.”

As they got towards the center of the park they could see that it was busier near the rides. The employees were given meal vouchers that they could redeem at any of the food stands in the park. Stan the Man worked the pizza stand near the ferris wheel so they stopped there. “Roomie, gimme some of your best elementary school cafeteria pizza, please. And some for my handsome friend here.” Stan obliged him with a roll of his eyes.

They stood eating their pizza and watching the ferris wheel being loaded, though there were barely any people waiting to get on. “Oh hey,” Ben said, “That’s my roommate.” Richie looked where Ben was pointing, and saw little Eddie Spaghetti struggling with locking the bar on one of the ride’s seats. A senior employee was helping him, as they couldn't trust brand new employees to do the job perfectly on the first day. “I didn't know where he was working. He barely said a word to me last night.” Richie could see Beverly sitting in the control booth, reading a book. “Let’s go see them.”

Bev saw them coming and came out of the booth, kneeling down on the platform so she was eye level with Richie. “None for me, four-eyes?”

“Hey, I know the guy who runs the place but I still only get one voucher. Bev, this is Ben. He’s roomies with little Eds over there.” Eddie was caught up in following the guy training him and they walked from the ride’s loading station and back into the control booth. Bev mouthed at Richie _smoke?_ And jerked her head to the left, indicating a hole in the fence.

They slipped through the hole and were in an area that was clearly where employees went to smoke or just to hide. The grass was all tramped down with patches of dirt coming through and there was litter all over the place. “So how’s your first day going?” Bev asked Richie.

“Mostly boring. Trying to make my own fun. Benny here works across from me, and he’s equally bored. Hardly anyone comes down our way. You guys are right in the center of the action over here.”

“Yeah, I wish I could trade with you. But I guess at least I have Eddie to do the work. It’s not like I’m slacking on purpose, he’s just like super eager to do everything.”

 _Enthusiastic_ _Boy. That’s why I liked him in the first place. Eager beaver._

“Not like you’re slacking?” Richie laughed, “Beverly, you just snuck through a hole in a fence to take an unscheduled break.”

“Speaking of which, I think I should probably head back. I wasn't exactly scheduled for a break either.” Ben stuck his hand out to Bev and she shook it. “It was nice to meet you, Beverly.”

“Likewise,” and after he had disappeared through the hole she mouthed to Richie _cute_.

“You think so? I hope Eddie doesn't think so.”

Bev shook her head. “One of the perks of working in the busiest part of this shit hole is getting to know the object of your desire. And _I-know-something-you-don’t-know.”_ Richie chucked his butt over into the weeds and threw up his hands. “What the fuck does that mean?” She scuffed her cigarette on the bottom of her sneaker. “It means we’re going out tonight.”

* * *

Richie was getting ready in the dorm bathroom. He opted to wear black jeans and a Rancid teeshirt with a black button down open over it. Beverly had given him some creamy hair shit to use.

 _“It will give your curls more definition,”_ She’d said, _“and don’t bother with the contacts.”_

They were all going out in a group. Beverly’s roommate Greta was a real _see you next Tuesday_ according to Bev, so she declined the offer. Eddie and Ben were going. Stan had invited his friend from the pizza booth, Bill, who was also bringing his roommate Mike. Richie ran his fingers through his hair a final time before stepping back into the hallway. They were going to an alternative rock bar that was recommended by one of the senior employees who’d been working the job for three summers in a row. He said it was the best place to go in town and suggested that they call two cabs to fit everyone.

Beverly was wearing a dark baby doll dress with combat boots and a denim jacket, and her hair was wild around her shoulders with little clips here and there. Richie couldn't help himself. “What’s up Courtney Love?”

She punched him in the shoulder, hard. “Jesus, I’m sorry. Wow, that fuckin’ hurt.” She rubbed the spot she’d just punched, “ Sorry, babe. Your hair looks pretty.”

A tall, slim boy with reddish brown hair walked up to them. “H-hey. I’m Bill, this is Mike,” he said, indicating a taller, broader guy with warm dark skin and a friendly face.

Greetings were tossed around and Richie noticed that they were missing someone. “Where’s Eddie Spaghetti?” he asked Ben.

Ben glanced towards their room, “Uh, he should be ready by now.” Richie walked over and knocked on the door, but there was no response. He tried the handle and it was open. Eddie was sitting on the bed, holding his inhaler. He didn't look up at Richie. “Are you doing alright kid?” Eddie took a puff on the inhaler with a _gasp-hiss,_ “Yeah. I really do want to go out tonight, but I get like… all freaked out about nothing and then I can’t breathe.”

Richie sat down next to him. He was wearing a sky blue polo and light jeans and he looked adorable, but he was going to stick out like a sore thumb in the bar they were going to. “Well, we’ll just wait until you can breathe, and then we’ll go. Okay?” Eddie nodded. “You have nothing to worry about, I promise. It’s going to be fun.”

* * *

 

The night _was_ fun. The bar had a dark atmosphere and played the kind of music that both Bev and Richie liked: a mix of punk, alternative and 80’s. They snagged a table near the back and ordered pitchers of beer. With each beer she drank, Bev was getting a little closer to Ben. Richie rolled his eyes. He was buzzed too, and wished he had the confidence to openly mack on Eddie they way she was doing with his roommate.

_Of course she’s going to get laid before I do. She’s a fucking shark._

Richie was at the bar getting a pitcher refilled and watching their table. A song started playing and Bev popped up out of her seat. “Oh my god! Dance with me, please?” Ben looked embarrassed but got up to dance. It was a song Richie knew, one that his high school friends had joked was written about him.

_… Oh Big Mouth la-la-da-da. Big Mouth la-di-da-da, Bigmouth strikes again, and I got no right to take my place with the human race…._

The rest of the group got up to join them, but Eddie remained seated, staring into his beer. Richie took the pitcher back from the bartender and started to make his way back to the table as another song started to play. It was a fucking psychic play list if he ever heard one.

_… Out by the boxcar waiting, take me away to nowhere please. There is a wait so long. You never wait so long. Here comes your man. Here comes your man…._

“Hey, why so glum, chum?” Richie sat down next to Eddie and filled up his empty glass before setting the pitcher on the table.

“Not glum, just… I don’t know. Just kind of uncomfortable. And it has nothing to do with this,” he said swirling both of his hands to indicate the whole bar, “it’s just me.” Richie's heart ached for this kid, he wished he could help him feel differently about himself.

_…When you were here before. Couldn't look you in the eye. You’re just like an angel. Your skin makes me cry. You float like a feather. In a beautiful world. I wish I were special. You’re so fucking special…_

Richie looked up at the dance floor and saw that his group of friends were gone. He guessed that Bev had dragged them outside to smoke with her, but he doubted any of them even smoked. She just had a knack for getting people to do what she asked. “So Eddie, you feel like you’re a creep? A weirdo? You don’t know what the hell you’re doing here?” Richie asked, making a joke about the song that was playing. Eddie snickered and rolled his eyes “Everything is a joke to you. I’m being genuine.”

“I’m being genuine, too. You are the _cutest_ person… and nice, and enthusiastic about this stupid fucking job."  Richie knew that the beer was acting as a truth serum in the moment, but he didn't care. Eddie needed someone to tell him these things. What the fuck had happened to him in the past to make it so he _needed_ to be told. "I don’t know what you think you need to feel insecure about. You’re great.”

“You think I’m cute?”

Richie was quiet for a minute, running his finger around the rim of his beer. “I think what I said was _the cutest_ , so don’t minimize it. If they did a line-up of puppies and kittens and you and then had an unbiased person come in off the street to pick the cutest thing there, they’d pick you.”

“You’re batshit out of your mind, and drunk.” But Eddie’s face had gone pink and his smile had changed and he sipped his beer, looking out over the bar. Bev and Co. came back in through the side door and joined them.

“This girl is a trip." Mike sat down at the table, grinning. "Meeting all of you has been the best part of this job so far.”

Bev sat down on Richie’s lap and whispered into his ear, " _So how’s it going?"_

 _"Baby steps,"_ He whispered back _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs:  
> The Smiths - Big Mouth Strikes Again  
> The Pixies - Here Comes Your Man  
> Radiohead - Creep


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of this chapter was inspired by a scene from _the O.C._ \- _big up_ if you know what I'm talking about.

Richie woke up feeling like shit and he was grateful that it was his day off. They all had been given weekly schedules on the first day and everyone’s hours varied because the park was open six days a week. Every employee had free unlimited access to the rides and attractions on their days off. It might seem like they’d be too sick of the place to want to capitalize on that perk, but the surrounding town was small and most of the employees had traveled a moderate distance to take the job. Richie didn't know anyone besides his coworkers for fifty miles in any direction. He knew that Bev and Eddie had to work that morning at 11 AM and he groaned out loud thinking about how much that must've sucked for them.

“Oh so it’s finally alive.”

Richie sat up and squinted towards the voice to see Stan staring at him. He was getting himself ready to leave for his shift. “Jesus fuck, Stanley. My head hurts so much.” He reached for his glasses so he could see Stan clearly, wearing his uniform and not looking hungover in the slightest.

“Well, I would imagine so, you got trashed last night.”

Richie tried to remember everything that had happened the previous night, but there were gaps. He recalled talking to Eddie alone at the table, and everyone coming back to join them. There were wings ordered at one point, and he had gone out for a smoke with Bev. The specifics of how they got back to the dorm were missing, but he assumed that they’d made it back before curfew. He felt a nervous tension building in his chest and he hoped to God that he hadn't said or done anything stupid.

“Did I say or do anything stupid last night?”

Stan’s laugh was a cackle. “Have you met yourself? You say and do stupid stuff stone cold sober.”

Richie knew he couldn't trust Stan’s opinion of the situation, so he decided not to worry about it too much until he talked to Bev. She had told him to come by the park to visit her and she promised to do the same thing for him on her days off. He winced as he stood up and hoped that he could make it through getting dressed without puking.

* * *

Beverly wasn't sitting in the control booth of the ferris wheel, so Richie went straight for the broken fence to check if she was taking a smoke break. He had to duck and squat sideways to fit himself through the hole, and when he emerged on the other side he saw Bev sitting in the grass smoking, with Eddie seated on a broken piece of ride equipment beside her. There were remnants of their lunch between them, so Richie knew they must have been sitting there for a while. Eddie froze when he saw Richie.

“Uh, Hey guys, glad to see you both made it here alive this morning… Is it really a good idea for you to be breathing that stuff, Eds?”

“No, I guess it isn't." Eddie addressed Bev when he spoke.  "I’m going to get back to the booth before we get into trouble.” He barely needed to change his body position at all to go through the fence, and didn't look at Richie directly as he passed by.

“Okay, what the fuck happened last night?" Richie threw up his hands. "What did I do wrong?”

Bev took a long drag on her smoke. “From my perspective, you didn't do anything wrong. You just got kind of sloppy.”

He sat down on the ground cross-legged and cradled his head in his hands. He had taken something for the headache but his temples were still throbbing. “So is Eddie Spaghetti mad at me?”

Beverly gave him a long look and then focused on the ground before she began speaking. “Look, I like you. I think that you and I are going to be friends beyond this job. But I also like Eddie, and anything that he tells me in confidence,” she shook her head, “It’s not something I’m going to share with you.”

Richie respected that. He was _appreciative_ of it, because he knew that it meant he could confide in her without worrying that she’d blab to anyone. But that didn't mean he wasn't allowed to wish that she’d just spit it out so he could fix everything. “Alright fine, I get it. Forget Eddie, what do _you_ think I need to do at this point?”

Bev stretched both her arms up over her head and rolled her neck. “Well for one thing, I think you need to not drink so much next time.”

“No shit Captain Obvious, what else?”

She stood up and walked over to him, grasping his hands to help him up to his feet. “At the risk of going against everything I just said… I think what you really need to do is prove that you don’t have to be soaked in alcohol to be interested in him.”

The regret Richie felt was like a weight piling onto his back. He didn't need to be drunk to be interested in Eddie, but a few beers never failed to loosen up his lips. He had a tendency to use humor as a distraction. _A tendency_ , okay he was a stupid fucking goof ball most of the time, but it was his own way of protecting himself. If he felt a little off kilter or self-conscious, saying something funny, or gross, or totally ridiculous was the best way to recover from it. It was also a great way to avoid talking about his feelings. There was just something about the sensation of being buzzed that allowed him to abandon all that.

They headed back into the park. Richie knew what he had to do, or at least a vague idea so he changed the subject. “How did things go between you and young master Benjamin last night?”

Bev rolled her eyes as she ducked through the hole. “It was a bust. He’s cute and sweet, but very shy, so I’m going to have to change my game plan.”

He followed her out of the hole and looked up at Eddie, hard at work on the ferris wheel platform. “Sounds familiar.”

* * *

 

On the first Sunday of the open season, the company threw a picnic for the employees. It was tradition, and a few senior employees were recruited to man the major rides so that everyone else could enjoy them. The game booths were closed down but no one who worked for the company had any desire to win cheap stuffed animals anyhow. Richie was hanging with Stan, Bill and Mike, and they all went on a few spinning rides first, reasoning that they should get that out of the way before eating anything. There were more people milling around than there would be on a normal day at the park and Richie scanned the crowd, trying to locate Ben and Bev. He’d seen them go off together to ride the roller coaster when he’d first arrived, something Richie wouldn't be caught dead doing. He simply didn't _do_ heights.

Richie dressed himself up nicer than was necessary for a day in an amusement park, and he had put in his contacts. Eddie was avoiding him like the plague since the last time they saw each other. He wanted to fix the weirdness but it was impossible if the kid wouldn't even look at him. He’d seen him in the bathroom at the sink and gotten a _Hi,_ and they’d sat at the same table in the cafeteria for dinner a couple times, but Eddie opted to sit as far away as he could and stuck to speaking with Bev and the others. Richie fought the urge to ask the other guys if Eddie had said anything about what was going on.

After picking out hamburgers and hot dogs from the grilling station, the four of them sat down at one of the tables set up in the courtyard near the entrance fountain. Stan was being _nice_ for once, and Richie had a hunch that he had a little crush on Bill, who was traditionally handsome with a mild stutter that was almost charming. Stan in a giddy state felt almost _wrong_ , so Richie tried to push the right button. ”Stanley the Manley, if I didn't know any better I’d think you took happy pills this morning, you are positively pleasant.”

Stan’s face comically switched from a smile to a glare. “Did you take _annoying-comments-and-lame-jokes_ pills this morning? Oh no, I forgot you have a prescription.”

Richie laughed and slapped his knee. He saw Bev approaching, holding hands with Ben, essentially dragging him along. “Beverly, Benjamin, how was your ride on the roller coaster?”

Bev sat down next to Richie. “It was okay, I like ‘em better when they go upside down.”

“Um I thought it was terrifying enough as it was.” Ben looked a little green.

Bill looked up from his hamburger. “Hey, do you guys want to g-go into the haunted house? Some of the senior employees have said that it’s actually pretty cool.”

Mike nodded. “We should go, but let’s wait until it’s dark. I heard that they make it extra scary for employees, and I want to see what they do.” They all agreed to meet up in front of the haunted house at 9 PM and went off in smaller groups. Richie was standing with Bev and Ben, recruiting them to help him locate Eddie in the crowd.

Ben pointed. “Look, he’s over there.”

Richie’s heart sunk into his stomach when he saw what Eddie was about to do, and by association, what _he_ was about to do.

_God fucking help me, here I go._

Eddie was next in line to get onto the ferris wheel. Richie pushed his way through the crowd, earning a few nasty looks in the process. He reached the platform just as Eddie sat down in the car. “You mind?” he asked the kid loading passengers, and then sat down in the car next to Eddie.

Eddie looked pissed off. “What the fuck are you doing?”

The lap bar came down, the lock clicking on the car, and the senior employee tapped the side of it to send them up. Richie shut his eyes tightly and immediately gripped the bar in front of his knees, white knuckling it. His face was getting sweaty and flushed. “I’m riding the ferris wheel, Eddie Spaghetti, what does it look like?” The car started to move and creaked its way up a few feet, just enough to let the next car get filled with passengers.

Eddie noticed Richie’s terrified posture and looked at him curiously. “You’re afraid of heights?... but you’re so tall.”

Richie let out a shuddery sigh. “I’m tall Eds, but I’m not ten stories tall.” He wished that he had worn his glasses so he could have just taken them off instead of clenching his eyes shut. The ride moved again, in the same manner – up a little ways and then it stopped, the car gently rocking back and forth as more people were loaded – and Richie let out a low whimper.

Eddie turned towards Richie and put his arm across the back of the head rest, craning his neck to look behind them. The sun had just gone down and the sky was a mix of hazy pinks and purples. “Hey, you can see the dorm from here.”

The car rocked deeply at his movement and Richie couldn't take it. “Kid, I’m begging you, please sit still.”

“If you’re so scared of heights then why’d you come on this thing?”

Richie opened his eyes and looked over at Eddie. “Because you’re avoiding me and this was the best way to get you as a captive audience.” He squeezed his eyes shut again. “But I gave myself too much credit when I thought I’d actually be able to speak to you normally while sitting fifty feet in the air.” Richie’s knee was bouncing involuntarily and he struggled to get it under control because it added to the unstable way the car rocked.

The ferris wheel continued moving to load people until their car was at the very top. Eddie leaned to the side and looked straight down to see how many more people were getting on. “We’re almost at my favorite part.”

“The part where everyone on the ride dies?” Richie's voice was a sad little whine.

Eddie laughed openly at him. “No, the part where it goes down and around and back up. It’s such a nice feeling, like you’re flying.”

Richie felt Eddie’s small hands prying his left hand off of the bar, and then his hand was surrounded by soft warmth. He peeked his eyes open and Eddie was looking at him, studying his face.

“I’m only doing this because you’re so scared that it’s ruining my ride-buzz,” he stage-whispered, grinning.

And then the ride started to move. Richie gasped at the sensation in the pit of his stomach, his center of gravity being tossed up and then back down. It did feel good, inside, but the idea of falling out of the car and dying wouldn't leave his brain. He took deep breaths and the air felt fresh and thick, the breeze pleasant like a kiss on his heated face. His hand was sweaty in between Eddie’s palms, but the little guy didn't let go, didn't even change his grip.

Eddie's voice was resignedly sympathetic. “It’s hard for me to be mad at you when you’re this pathetic.”

“I don’t even know what you have to be mad at me for in the first place, that’s the most pathetic part,” Richie admitted, sheepish.

Eddie was quiet for a minute, and Richie felt himself relaxing a little bit. The continuous motion of the ride was less scary than the rickety, jerking feeling of the cars being loaded. He opened his eyes and actually watched the ride move, focused on the gears in the center of the metal pole and how they shifted and folded together. 

“I guess mad is the wrong word…" Eddie started cautiously. "You just reminded me of someone. And I guess comparing people is unfair," he reasoned, "but you getting stupid drunk and making little flirty comments at me…" He sighed. "I don’t know. I’m being stupid.”

Just as Richie was about to answer, the ride creaked to a halt and their car rocked from the sudden stop. He yanked his hand out of Eddie’s and grabbed the bar again, but he was able to keep his eyes open. “Oh my God, what the fuck is happening?”

“The ride is over dummy, they have to unload people in the same way they put them on." Eddie shook his head. "You've really never been on a ferris wheel before?”

“I keep my happy ass on the ground whenever possible, Eds." Richie took a deep breath, felt his heart rate evening back out. "So this other guy, he did a number on you?” The ride continued to creak and rock, and he slowly became used to it. He felt a little silly for getting so scared in the first place.

_If I ever have the balls to ride this piece of shit again I might actually like it._

“I guess he did a number on me, I don’t know… I really liked him, and I think he wanted to believe he was straight, but he would make out with me after we drank wine coolers he stole from his mom’s stash." Eddie’s expression was far away, lost in a memory. "Kids had been calling me a _fairy_ since I was twelve years old. But not him. If anyone found out he was gay he would have totally freaked.”

Richie couldn't help himself. “Eddie Spaghetti, you were a party to underage drinking? I’m appalled.” Their car was next in line to get unloaded. They were low enough to the ground for Richie to see Beverly standing a short distance away from the ride. She held both of her thumbs up and cocked her head in a questioning gesture.

Eddie saw Bev, too, and smiled. “What can I say, I’m a rebel.”

Their car was about to get to the platform so Richie knew he needed have a good closing statement. “Look I’m sorry that I reminded you of that jerk. I wish I could go back to that night and have like three less beers, but I can’t. I’d just like a chance to maybe start over? We’re all supposed to meet up at the haunted house at 9. It would be cool if you came.” Eddie didn't say anything in response, and after the car was unlocked he walked down off the platform and Richie lost sight of him in the crowd. Richie walked over to Beverly on wobbly legs and hugged her. “Oh, it’s so nice to be on the ground, you have no idea.”

* * *

The crowd waiting for the haunted house was huge. It seemed like everyone had the same idea that Mike had, that going when it was dark would be scarier. His friends chattered excitedly amongst themselves but Richie was just full of dread. The outside of the house had a giant fucking scary clown painted on it, and it made his skin crawl. The thing had a bulbous head with gnarly pointy teeth and twin bloody tear-tracks streaking down its face. Richie hoped that it was just a decorative painting and that nothing inside the house actually resembled it. He didn't know what he’d been smoking to think that this night was a good time to try to repair things with Eddie. Heights, clowns, all the things that reduced him to a big-dumb-baby scaredy cat.

 _Some people find vulnerability to be sexy, though._ _At least that’s what I’m choosing to tell myself._

Richie felt a tap on his arm and looked down to find Eddie grinning up at him. “So are you as scared of the dark as you are of heights? Because I can’t protect you in there, you’re too big.”

Richie put his arm around Eddie’s shoulders and gently mussed his hair, something he’d been dying to do. “I don’t need you to protect me, Spaghetti Man, I’m just glad you decided to come.”

“You’re already making me regret it." Eddie swatted at Richie like he was a fly. "And don’t call me Spaghetti Man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being afraid of heights might be ooc for Richie but idk in an au things are slightly different, no?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expositiony but this is what came out. Sorry

Richie and Eddie had been hanging out a lot since the company picnic. They didn't have much in common beyond a mutual interest in one another, so they bonded by sharing their very different musical preferences, and their dating histories. Eddie’s was short, and included his closeted high school crush who treated him like a dirty little secret, and one serious relationship in college that hadn't worked out. Richie’s past was sordid and colorful, so he gave Eddie the abridged version. “Well, I've had serious relationships with both men and women, and I've had casual relationships with both men and women.”

They spent most of their time in Richie’s room because it seemed like Stanley only came home to change clothes and sleep. Richie enjoyed watching Eddie blossom, changing from the anxiety bomb that couldn't meet his eyes when they first met, to a person who would happily tell him to go fuck himself. They were both nervous about flirting, although Richie was slowly growing more tactile with his little friend.

The amusement park was open for almost three weeks and Richie had yet to call home to check in with his parents and let them know he wasn't dead. His calling card that they’d bought for him was still in its cellophane wrapper. It wasn't that he didn't care for them, they just didn't see eye to eye on a lot of things, including his sexuality, his major, his jokes, and the ‘bad influence’ friends he seemed to attract. He and his mother particularly didn't have much to say to one another, and that was true since he was a young teenager. Despite all that, he figured the time had come, so he made a stop at the phone room on the first floor of the dorm. It was a stark white room full of pay phones that Richie swore was similar to something that would be found in a prison. Just before he walked in, he heard Eddie talking on the phone and slowed down his pace.

“I don’t know why you always have to do this, it makes me not want to call you at all.”

Richie crept softly into the room and he could see Eddie from behind, standing at one of the phones. He didn't want to just stand there eavesdropping so he tiptoed over to far side of the room and pretended like he was taking his time making a call. He needn't have bothered with the pretense because Eddie didn't notice him in the slightest.

“I've had this conversation with you at least twenty times and the result doesn't change, so why do you even have to bring it up?... I _have_ been, yes… Ma there’s nothing wrong with me, and you know it...” Eddie hung his head back and looked up at the ceiling while pantomiming smashing the receiver against the body of the phone, and the image was so funny that Richie almost choked himself stifling a giggle. “Well In case you missed it, I haven't been a little kid for a long time… Okay, fine, I don’t want to talk to you anymore about this either, Goodbye.” He slammed the phone down.

Eddie turned around, and Richie didn't even bother to continue pretending like he hadn't been listening. “You wanna talk about it?”

Eddie followed Richie back to his room. Stan had gone to the movies that evening with Bill, so they had the place to themselves. Eddie flopped down on Richie’s bed on his back and pounded the mattress, “ ** _Augggh_** , I’m so sick of her shit.” His yell was angry but restrained, internalized. "She treats me like I’m still ten years old.”

Richie'd been told the short version of Eddie’s childhood, and it gave him new insight into who his friend was as a person. He was resilient and strong, having stood up to an overbearing mother who’d spent his early years controlling him through emotional manipulation. His breathing issues were the last remnant of that time in his life. They were mild, and Eddie knew they were psychosomatic, but he couldn't figure out how to fully overcome them. Richie sat down next to Eddie on the bed. “So what is she saying to you this time? Does she want to put you in a home where they try to pray the gay away?”

Eddie snickered as he sat up. “No, but she probably would have tried that when I was sixteen if she had realized it then. Today, she was just talking about my health. She feels better when I’m sick, and there’s nothing wrong with me.”

“Don’t sell yourself short Eds, there’s definitely something wrong with you.” A pillow hit Richie in the face abruptly, and he immediately retaliated, grabbing Eddie by his hips. He pressed his thumbs directly into the little guy’s hipbones, with pressure. Over the past couple weeks he’d given Eddie noogies and head-ducks in a playful way, but this was his most bold move yet. Richie’s thumbs were huge compared to Eddie's little hip joints, and If he moved them just slightly in any direction, it would tickle.

Eddie’s face was simultaneously terrified, angry, and fucking begging for it. “Don’t, you, _fucking_ , dare.”

Richie kept his thumbs where they were and Eddie held his body totally stiff. “You don’t want me to tickle you, Eds? ‘Cause I mean, why would a person _hit_ someone in the face with a pillow if they didn't _desperately_ want to die from being tickled? Explain it to me.”

Eddie started giggling. “I hate you so much, let go of me.”

Richie let go. “I've really been thinking about this whole thing with your mom. Maybe she would leave you alone if she got a good deep-dicking.” **Wham**. Richie got slammed by another pillow to the face, but this time instead of torturing Eddie, he got serious. “Eds, have you ever thought of just not calling her? I mean if you want to save yourself the stress.”

Eddie sighed. “Of course I've thought about it, but she lays these guilt trips on me.”

“Right, but if you don’t call, she _can’t_ lay a guilt trip on you. Let her sweat it out. You told her yourself, you’re not a kid anymore.” Eddie looked at him thoughtfully. “When I first met you I didn't think you were capable of being serious about anything and now you’re giving me life advice.”

“What can I say Eds, I’m a ‘riddle wrapped in an mystery’. And someday, when I get the chance to finally meet Mrs K, I promise you, you’ll get plenty more life advice… Because l’ll be your new dad.”

* * *

 

Beverly had the feeling that they collectively needed to ‘circle the wagons,’ which meant that she felt the group was getting too cliquey. Ben and Mike bonded over their interest in history and were working on a joint project they’d come up with. When Richie heard about it he had called them ‘the biggest fucking nerds I ever met’. Bill and Stan found a mutual love of movies and went out to the theater together a couple times a week. Richie and Eddie were together most of the time, with Bev filling in as each of their 2nd main hang. Ben and Bev were not an official couple, but they were teetering on the edge of being one.

So as a bonding experience and at Bev’s insistence, they were going bowling on Saturday night. It was perfect because everyone was off on Sundays. Richie had decided to make it a sober summer after dealing with the aftermath of his first night out, so he offered to drive them all in his old, beat up, shit-box station wagon. It was a hand-me-down from his father that had once driven him from Maine to Texas, and was still going strong. With a bench seat in front, it sat six people comfortably. The back-back had a flip out seat that could fit two additional people _uncomfortably_. Although Eddie was small enough that he would have been the least squished in the back-back, Richie had him sit in the middle of the front seat and left the rest of them to squabble it out.

There was a small arcade in the front room of the bowling alley, and the group went in there first. Richie hadn't played a stand up arcade game in at least seven years, but he was immediately killing it. He got so into playing that he stayed behind, entranced by the ambiance of flashing lights and glowing screens, while the rest of them got in line to rent their shoes. Eddie looked a little disappointed, but Richie was too involved in his game to let it change his mind. It ended up being easier that he didn't bowl, because without him the teams were even.

He passed through the lanes area every once in a while to check in with his friends and each time, Eddie Spaghetti was looking a little more rosey. He’d never seen Eddie with a buzz before. It was extra cute and giggly. Bev caught Richie by the arm one of the times he came to visit. “You have to bowl one game with us. Come on, this is supposed to be bonding night, and you’re in there playing _Steel Gunner_ like you would prefer to be a friendless loser.”

Richie sat down in one of the swiveling plastic chairs. “Fine, I’ll play one game.”

Richie sucked at bowling, and asked to be put last in the line up. While the rest of them were setting up the new game, he asked Bev to bum a smoke. They stepped out into the alley and leaned against the brick building. “So Spaghetti Man is crocked tonight.” Richie was dressed in clothes that he felt most comfortable in, his usual ripped jeans and band teeshirt, opting to wear his glasses. He adjusted them as he turned to lean on his elbow against the wall, facing Bev.

Bev giggled. “Yeah, it’s super cute. I just hope he doesn't puke in your car.” Richie hoped so, too.

“Listen,” Bev continued, “I’m probably going to go back to Ben’s room tonight and--" She rolled her eyes. "--Oh fuck you, don’t look at me like that, I don’t think we’ll do anything besides make out. I’m just saying… Eddie needs to go somewhere else.” She fiddled with her low-cut blouse and Richie shook his head at her.

“Why Beverly Marsh, are you fixin’ to break the rules of our living arrangement?" He fluttered his hands by his forehead like he felt faint. " _No fraternizing in the dormitory._ Oh lawd it brings a blush to my cheeks.”

She blew smoke into his face _._ “Bite me.”

Eddie came out of the side door of the bowling alley, looking a little wobbly. “Hey, are you guys going to bowl? We’re ready.” Bev quickly put her cigarette out in the standing ash tray and went back inside. Eddie stood next to Richie and leaned up against the wall. His face was glowy and he had dressed in a decidedly un-Eddie outfit, a dark teeshirt and faded ripped jeans.

_Did he dress like me because he thinks it's the best way to seduce me? He's not far off the mark._

Richie was hit with a sudden urge to slam him up against the wall and make him squeal, but restrained himself. He noticed that Eddie was staring at him closely. “What’s up?”

Eddie put both of his hands behind the small of his back against the wall. “Your glasses. I like them.”

“Okay, thanks, noted.”

“No,no,no. They’re sexy,” Eddie slurred, “When I was a kid, I had a crush on Dr. Spengler, y’know from _Ghostbusters_? So I think that’s where that comes from.”

“Oh my **_GOD_** , Eddie Spaghetti, You fucking little nerd." Richie laughed so hard he had to bend over and put his hands on his knees. "I bet you saw _Back to the Future_ five times because you wanted to blow Michael J. Fox.”

“Shut up! I was _eight_ years old." Eddie slapped him hard across the chest, and it stung. "You’re so gross.”

“Freaks are born freaks, no?” Richie shrugged.

He stared at the ground for a minute, and then put both of his hands on Richie’s waist, pulling him closer. Repositioned, Richie was standing in the perfect vantage point to slam the kid against the wall like he wanted to. He couldn't stop himself from looking at Eddie’s neck, which was long and graceful for a shorty, and internally cursed his own stupid conscience. “What are you doing Spaghetti Head?”

“I don’t know." He whispered, looking like an innocent little lamb. "Don’t you want to kiss me?”

Richie smiled at him and thumbed down his cheek. “I might, but do you really think this is a good time?”

Whining in frustration, Eddie scrunched up his face adorably. “But I thought you liked me!”

Richie placed both of his hands on Eddie’s shoulders. “Eddie, if you were sober right now I would absolutely wreck you,” he said plainly. “But you’re not. This isn't a rejection. This is a _pause_ , to be resumed later.”The shorty's mouth turned a little pouty, and at that sight, Richie almost gave in.

”You’re just doing this as payback, because I got mad at you when you were drunk,” Eddie grumbled, dead serious.

“I promise you, it’s not payback. And I have a pretty good feeling you won’t remember most of this anyway. So it’s not big deal, okay?" Richie put his arm around Eddie’s shoulders and gently started leading him back inside.  "Let’s go back in, Beverly is really desperate to see me make a fool of myself bowling.”

* * *

The final averages proved that Mike was the best bowler, but he wasn't arrogant about it. Richie was tied with Stan for last place. Drunken Eddie managed to out-bowl Bill and Bev, who were (mostly jokingly) hugely offended. Playing drunk wrangler was not fun and Richie got the gang crowded back into the car, praying that they’d make curfew. He found a new respect for all the designated drivers he’d ever had in his life. Spending time with a car-full of drunks when you were sober was plain sucksville. Eddie was wasted, and whispering in his ear about certain things he’d like Richie to do to him. It was impossibly hot and unexpected. He squirmed in the drivers seat and made a mental note to jot a couple of the suggestions down.

_Freaks are born freaks, indeed._

They arrived at the dorm on time, and Bev and Ben went forward with their plan to kick Eddie out of the room, so Richie had to house him. “Hey drunky-McDrunk-face, you want to change out of your jeans?” Richie asked, tossing a pair of sweat pants at Eddie without bothering to wait for a response and left the room to brush his teeth. He ran into Bill in the bathroom. “Hey Billy, did you have fun tonight?”

Bill nodded as he brushed his own teeth and then spit. “N-not as much fun as Ben and Beverly are going to have tonight, but yeah. I still can’t b-believe Eddie beat me at bowling. He’s full of surprises.”

“That he is.”

The room was quiet when Richie came back in; Stan and Eddie were both asleep. Eddie had changed into the sweat pants and even managed neatly placing his jeans on the desk chair in his drunken state. He was laying on the bed uncovered, on his side with both his hands between his knees, looking like a little fucking angel. Richie covered him with his blanket and then sighed quietly as he laid on the floor, flopping down on the sleeping bag that Mike had let him borrow. Sleep didn't come easy for him that night, and he hoped that Eddie would be as forward with him in the morning as he’d been while he was stinking drunk. But he had doubts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A riddle wrapped in a mystery" - Winston Churchill


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the angst

“Step right up, I’ll guess your weight, age, marital status, financial situation – just by looking at you! You’ll check your pants for your wallet because you won’t be able to _believe_ I could know the answers without cheating. It’s a gift people!” Richie was barking into his microphone at an empty games section, but at least Ben grinned over at him, amused. “Benny, step up, don’t be afraid. I’m not psychic, I’m blessed.”

He was getting better at his job. After speaking to a senior employee about technique, he was actually winning most of the time when he got a real customer. All he had to do was guess within twenty pounds, higher or lower. It was a struggle at first because at 6’3”, Richie weighed barely 175 pounds, and he was _skinny_. So to him, 175 pounds didn't sound like a lot. The seasoned weight guesser taught him to take heights, genders, and average weights into account before blurting out numbers. When he and Eddie were alone one day, he asked the shorty how much he weighed, just to get an idea of what a skinny 5’3” nugget was working with. _“None of your fucking business,”_ was the answer.

Richie spoke into the microphone, “Benny, when do you get lunch?” Ben held up four fingers.

A few days had passed since the bowling trip, and Eddie was avoiding Richie for the second time. Richie wasn't eager to fix anything like he was the first time. He was pissed. Early Sunday morning, he woke up on the floor in an empty room. His sweat pants and blanket were folded neatly on the bed. At some point, Eddie must have slipped out unnoticed.

After hauling himself into his own bed to catch a few more hours sleep, Richie made a stop at room 203 to check up on his friend, who had to be experiencing a terrible hangover. Ben acted as the gatekeeper, telling him that Eddie was feeling sick and didn't want to talk to anyone. He looked a little guilty and it was obvious he’d been coached by Eddie to tell Richie to buzz off.

_Well I don’t want to talk to you either, so fuck you._

He saw Beverly approaching his booth, wearing a cream colored dress with little flowers on it and buttons down the front that made his dick twitch a little, but he ignored it. She was coming to visit him on her day off like she’d promised. He boomed into the microphone, “Ah yes, lovely lady! Step right up, I’ll guess your weight, how many freckles you have, your average bowling score…”

Bev reached his booth and climbed behind it, plopping herself down in the chair Richie never used. “How’s it going today?” She asked, glancing out at the empty area surrounding them, “Dead?”

He placed the microphone on the ledge of the booth. “Yeah, it’s pretty dead. It’s 2 PM on a Wednesday, who the fuck in their right mind would be here right now?” She raised her hand, and he laughed. Richie knew that Bev must have talked to Eddie at some point since their night out, but he didn't want to badger her about it because he figured she wouldn't tell him shit anyway. “Isn't Ben jealous that you came over here to see me first when he’s right over there?”

“Ben knows I have more pressing issues to deal with than saying hi to him. And besides, he’s not insecure. Which is nice.”

He felt a buzz forming in his chest.  _Pressing issues. She came to talk about Eddie._ “Yeah, what issues do we have to talk about?” Richie tried to sound nonchalant, but failed. “The issue that Eddie was totally drunk and came onto me, and I was a fucking gentleman and said no?" He shook his head, his mind totally boggled. "Does he know how fucking hard that was to do? Does he appreciate at all the level of _restraint_ it took? No. Of course not.”

Bev fiddled with her earring and sighed. “I think he’s just sort of embarrassed. Y’know, about everything he said.” She looked pointedly at Richie, and he knew that meant Eddie Spaghetti hadn't been black-out drunk that night.

“Okay, he’s embarrassed, I get that. But ignoring me like _I_ did something wrong, when I only turned him down because I didn't want him to regret it." He thought for a few seconds. "And I guess drunk people aren't very hot when you’re sober. I never realized that until the other night.” But then he remembered the filthy shit Eddie whispered to him during the car ride back to the dorm. Those words were what undoubtedly accounted for the kid's embarrassment, and Richie's dick twitched again involuntarily.

Richie scoffed, shoving the sexy ideas away. “You know what? I haven’t had to deal with someone so hot and cold since I was trying to nail chicks in high school, and you can tell him I said that.” He moved his fingers to adjust his glasses, but they weren't on his face. It was a nervous habit he’d developed as a kid, and old habits died hard. He reached for the microphone. “Now let’s guess your weight, sure-an-begorah a foine Irish lass such as y’self must've been birthed from the leprechauns. Stand up and let ye be amazed by me foine, foine weight guessing skills, lassie.” Beverly stood up and crossed her arms across her chest, flashing him a mild glare. “I put ye at about… 138.”

Bev raised her eyebrows. “Uh that’s actually pretty close. You won.”

“O’course I won lassie,” Richie said, still bellowing his Irish brogue into the microphone, “I know yer probably devastated to not walk away with one of these foine _Casper_ collectibles, but alas, ye didn't pay a cent. Be gone with ye _.”_

Beverly stepped out of the booth, lingering by the front of it. She leaned against the pay station looking like she was struggling to find the right thing to say. “Richie, I know what he’s doing is silly, and I think he knows it, too. I wish I could fix it for him. I just want you guys to be happy.” She backed away and crossed over to Ben’s booth without waiting for him to respond.

* * *

Richie didn't go to the cafeteria for dinner. He opted instead to stop at Stan and Bill’s booth to get pizza just before closing time and holed up in his room, laying on the bed listening to a mix on his disc man. It was a CD he made the previous school year when he’d broken up with someone (who was super hot but emotionally unavailable) and it was soothing in an odd way. Real mood appropriate shit that just made him feel worse, but sometimes he liked to wallow.

_….Take the time to get to know me, if you want me why can’t you just show me? We’re always on this roller coaster, if you want me why can’t you get closer? Never there. You’re never there. You’re never, ever, ever, ever there…_

Was he really mad at Eddie? He wasn't so sure. He supposed he just thought Eddie was a hypocrite. Getting ticked off at Richie for being drunk and flirty, then getting drunk himself and doing basically the same thing – waiting until his inhibitions were lowered to make a move so they were both left wondering if it was for real or if it was just the alcohol. On Richie’s end he knew it had nothing to do with alcohol.

He wanted to kiss Eddie, or even just sit next to him in a quiet room and listen to him breathe. He wanted to see the kid make a little grossed-out face when he made a terrible joke. He wanted to make Eddie Spaghetti feel better about having a shitty mom and tickle him until he was red-faced and begging for it to end. Most of all, he just wanted to go back and erase everything that turned the situation awkward, but he couldn't. So he lay there listening to sappy, bummer music and tried to remember that he was supposed to be pissed.

Stan came into the room, still dressed in his uniform. He sat down on his own bed and stared across at Richie. Richie rolled his eyes and tore off his headphones, “What? What Stan?”

“Nothing. You guys are just both really depressing. It’s totally obvious that you like each other but you’re both acting like a couple of fucking babies. Why are you hiding in here?”

Richie turned and flopped over on his stomach, facing away from Stan. “I’m not hiding. I’m preventing myself from being an asshole to him. He should see it as the gift that it is. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He put his headphones back on.

_…The world has turned and left me here, just where I was before you appeared. And in your place, an empty space, has filled the void, behind my face. I just made love with your sweet memory, one thousand times in my head. You said you loved it more than ever, you said. You remain turned away. Turning further every day…._

He felt Stan sit down on his bed, so he sat up and removed the headphones again. “Richie, everyone else is really bummed out about this, too. You have to talk to him.”

“But why do _I_ have to do anything, he’s the one being an idiot about it!”

Stan shook his head. “Maybe so, but what are you gaining by being stubborn right now? You’re lucky, he actually likes you. Meanwhile I’m here with a crush on someone who isn't interested at all… I’m jealous of you guys. If you can stop being a moron for ten minutes you might actually end up with something nice.”

Richie knew what Stan was talking about even though they’d never spoken about it. He saw the way Stan looked at Bill, like he was a fucking hero. “So Billy-boy isn't a homo? He spends an awful lot of time with you…”

“Don’t be an idiot. Mike and Ben spend an awful lot of time together too, but we don’t assume anything about them… I don’t know if Bill likes guys or not. I just think he doesn't like me. Not _like that_ anyway.”

Richie grinned and playfully shoved Stan. “Well maybe if you weren't such a sarcastic jerk all the time, he would.”

Stan pinched him on the arm. “I’m only a sarcastic jerk to you, because you deserve it.” He got up and started gathering his clothes and shower supplies, so Richie put his headphones back on, staring at the ceiling.

_…Me and you, what’s going on?  All we seem to know, is how to show, the feelings that are wrong. So don’t go away. Say what you say, but say that you’ll stay. Forever and a day, in the time of my life. ‘Cause I need more time. Yes I need more time just to make things right…_

He closed his eyes and willed himself to hold onto his anger, because if he let go of it he was going to start crying.

* * *

“Hello parental unit." Richie crowed into the phone receiver. "Have you missed your demon spawn?”

His mother sighed deeply on the other side of the phone. “Hi Richard. I was beginning to think you forgot our number.”

“Nope, didn't forget, just been busy." He fiddled with the curly phone chord. "Are you proud of me? I’m a Carnie.”

“I just hope to God you’re behaving yourself," she muttered, knowing her son all-too-well. "Have you met anyone… I mean, are you seeing anyone?”

Richie appreciated the fact that his mother at least _tried_ to take an active interest in him. It certainly didn't seem to come naturally to her. “Met someone, yes. _Seeing_ like do you mean dating? Because that’s a definitive no.” Out of the corner of his eye, Richie saw Eddie tentatively step up to one of the phones in the far corner of the room. He guessed the little bugger was back to torturing himself and calling his mother.

His mother's voice was cautious. “And this someone, are they… I mean are you seeing another boy, or...”

Richie spoke while looking directly at Eddie’s back. “Yes mother, but he’s being a totally immature doofus, so you don’t have to worry or give me a lecture about safe sex or anything.” He saw Eddie’s head and shoulders duck and cringe at his words.

“Is he a nice boy? Or is he--”

“What like me?” Richie laughed, still looking at Eddie. “No, he’s a friggin’ sweetheart. You’d actually probably like him.”

She changed the subject. “How’s the car holding up? Your father keeps saying that it’s going to reach its last leg at some point and you’re going to be stranded in the middle of nowhere.”

“It seems like it’s running fine. I’m not really worried about it. So is the old man around?”

“No, you know your father. Work, work and more work. Maybe you should call back on Saturday if you want to catch him. It was good to hear from you Richard but I've got my hands full over here and need to say goodbye, okay? I love you.”

“Love you, too. Tell dad I said hi.” He hung up and walked straight out of the room, and didn't stop when he heard “Richie, wait!” from behind him.

* * *

 

The days fell into a predictable pattern. Richie went to work, ate dinner alone in his room, received concerned looks and the occasional lecture from Stanley, and he avoided both Bev and Eddie. He felt bad about closing Beverly out, but he didn't know what else to do. She would give him these sad looks like she was trying to telepathically fill his brain with the solution to the Eddie problem. The solution was to swallow his pride and talk to him, but he didn't want to back down. The ball was in Eddie’s court as far as he was concerned, with the effort required to reconcile it being in league with rode-a-ferris-wheel-while-acrophobic type stuff. 

On Friday, he planned to mope in his room all day because he didn't have to work, and was already deep into that plan when there was a knock on the door. Bev stood there in her uniform with tears streaking down her face. He’d never seen her cry before. “Holy shit, what happened?” She pushed passed him and sat down on his bed, putting her face in her hands. Richie hesitated at the door and then sat next to her, rubbing her shoulders. “Did you and Ben have a fight or something?” He’d been too immersed in his funk to even know what had been going on between all of his friends for the past week, and was hit by a sudden wave of guilt.

“Ben? No, everything is fine with us." Bev sniffled and wiped at her eyes. "Eddie got hurt today. They had to take him away in an ambulance.”

Richie took off his glasses and rubbed his face. The regret felt so deep he could have swam in it. “What happened to him? Is he going to be okay?”

As calmly as she could, Beverly told Richie what happened. Eddie had been working on the ferris wheel when he miscalculated how close he was to the ride. One of the cars had struck him, knocking him down off of the platform. He was unconscious when they took him away, and they wouldn't let anyone ride with him to the hospital because no one present was family. Beverly didn't know if he was going to be okay because none of the responders at the scene would tell her anything. She tearfully recounted how she’d cursed-out one of the EMTs for being a total asshole about it.

Richie stood up and immediately whipped off his grungy mope-around shirt and Bev protested. “Um hello, is this really a good time to give me a free show?”

“Beverly, I knew you secretly wanted me. Turn around if you don’t want to see my underwear, we have to get over to the hospital and I can’t go dressed like this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs:  
> Cake – Never There  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VxqaI_c9j_g  
> Weezer – The World Has Turned and Left Me Here  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B_nuZ4cPBrQ  
> Oasis – Don’t go away  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ab1nJg4RKw0


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for emotionally abusive/homophobic parent.

How long they’d been sitting in the waiting room was anyone’s guess, but one thing Richie was certain of was that the receptionist was sick of their shit. He and Beverly had been a pain in her ass since they’d arrived, loud and excitable after fleeing the dorm as though it were on fire. She claimed that she couldn't tell them anything about Eddie’s condition, and repeatedly directed them to ‘have a seat’ when they tried to ask for more information. Richie was convinced that they were being bullshitted, that she could have given the information if she wanted to, so he kept trying. 

“Karen? That’s your name right? I think we've gotten to know each other pretty well today. You know that I’m loud and obnoxious, and I know that you get off on some kind of power trip, but that’s cool. We just want to know if our friend is okay. Please.”

Karen didn't even look up at him when she said, “Young man, If you don’t stop pestering me I’m going to call security. Have a _seat_.”

Richie threw himself back down in the waiting room chair next to Bev, knowing that he was taking out the animosity he felt towards himself on this woman who was just doing her job. He was trying to avoid thrashing himself internally for being stubborn and angry with Eddie over trivial shit. Taking it out on someone else wasn't a solution, but as soon as he stopped he was hit with regretful thoughts.

When Eddie called out to him that day in the phone room, he should have turned around so they could make up. Not like it would have prevented the accident from happening, but still. He should have taken Eddie and told him that there was nothing for him to be embarrassed about, that it was endearing to see him turn into a silly, drunken, romantic, horny fool. That it was cute that he had a crush on one of the _Ghostbusters_.

Lost in thought, Richie absently noticed a large woman as she appeared through the main entrance to the Emergency Room. Stopping at the security desk she gestured emphatically with her hands and her mouth moved angrily as she conversed with the man in uniform. She had Richie's full attention at that point, and he knew exactly who she was without needing to be introduced. 

He felt dread creeping into his chest cavity as he envisioned actually having to speak to her. After collecting a visitor tag, she headed straight towards the waiting area where he and Bev sat. He elbowed Bev, who was just beginning to doze off on his shoulder. Her head popped up, “Jesus, what?”

He pointed. “That’s Eddie’s mom,” he whispered, "They must have called his emergency contact."

Mrs. K stalked up to the round receptionist’s desk and banged on the bell. “My son, Edward Kaspbrak is here. Bring me his doctor _immediately_. Where is my son being held? I need to see him right away!” Karen cringed a little at the sound of Eddie’s name, because she’d been dealing with Bev and Richie’s drama over this kid all afternoon.

“Ma’am, I’ll call the doctor to come speak with you right away. The furthest information I have at this time is that your son is in stable condition and currently undergoing a routine CAT scan. If you could, please have a seat. He has other visitors.” she said, motioning towards Bev and Richie. Mrs. K slowly trained her eyes on Richie and she gave him the most disgusted look he’d ever seen, like she was looking at a slug. She huffily walked across the waiting room and sat down without saying a word, taking one of the chairs to their left, facing the doors that said _Employees Only - Emergency._

Richie decided to at least _try_ being civil, speaking gently, although he would have rather flipped the woman the bird on sight. “Hi Mrs. Kaspbrak, my name is Richie, I’m a friend of Eddie’s. This is Beverly.” Richie’d sat with Eddie as he recounted the terrible things his mother had said and done to him as a child. She’d made him believe he was sick when he was perfectly healthy, and Richie was sure that it played a large role in the formation of Eddie’s anxiety and lowered self confidence. She didn't deserve his civility, but he figured that her presence would allow himself and Bev to get information.

The woman addressed the double swinging doors in a voice dripping with hatred, “A _friend_ …" she said sarcastically, "of course you are. Do you know what happened to my son?”

Richie fixated on the pointed way she said _a friend_ , and he immediately stopped being nice. Impulse control was never one of his strong suits. “No we don’t know anything, but I guess we **finally know that he’s in stable condition** ,” he said the last bit loudly, directing his words toward Karen. He turned back to Mrs. K when he said, “Hopefully that means we can take him home tonight.” Why should he tell her what he knew about the accident? He’d been sitting for hours in the dark, and this woman was a total nightmare. She didn't deserve relief.

This time she managed to look at him, incredulously. “My son is not going anywhere with _you_ , he’s coming home with me. I knew it was a mistake for him to take this job, but does he ever listen to his mother? No.”

Richie furrowed his brow. “Um as far as I can tell, Eddie’s an adult, so if he wants to come back with us, that’s what he’s going to do.”

She repeated, “ **My son** , is not going anywhere with _you_. I know exactly what your intentions are, and you disgust me. ”

Richie looked over at Beverly, and her eyes were wide. It was the first time he'd seen her rendered speechless. “Lady, I’m trying really hard to be respectful here, and however you feel about me is obviously not something I can do anything about... But that kid gets to make his own choices. You’re whacked if you think he wants to go back to your house.”

Mrs K stood up. “ _Excuse_ me? Don’t you dare speak to me that way..”

“I’ll save you the trouble, don’t speak to _me_ anymore, okay? We’ll see what Eddie says when they let us see him.”

She barreled over to the Karen's desk. “I don’t want those two allowed to see my son. He’s a delicate boy, and I don’t trust them to be alone with him.” Richie leaned back against the top of his chair and put his hand over his forehead, shaking his head.

Beverly finally found her voice. “You can’t do that, he’s not six years old.”

Karen echoed what Bev said, “Ma’am, if your adult son wants to see visitors then his friends are allowed to see him, I’m sorry but it’s not up to you.” Mrs. K slapped her hand against the ledge of the desk and walked back to her seat while staring daggers at Richie. There was still nothing any of them could do except wait. They didn't have to talk or get along, just wait.

* * *

Richie kept looking at the clock on the wall. The doctor had come to tell Mrs. K (and by extension, Richie and Bev, who sat there listening) that the CAT scan results were normal and that Eddie could be seen. He had a concussion, a dislocated shoulder and a few bumps and bruises but he would be fine. A sling, ice pack, rest, an anti-inflammatory pain medication, and a muscle relaxant were everything he needed. They were already working on his release paperwork, and Mrs. K was cleared to go in and see him. She’d been gone for over twenty minutes. 

Beverly was asleep, curled up in the uncomfortable waiting room chair. Richie couldn't wait anymore, so he got up to see Karen again, hunching himself over the tallest part of the reception desk. “Does Eddie even know that we’re waiting here? If he knew, he’d be asking us to come and save him. You met that woman, do you really think he wants to be alone with her?” Karen finally gave Richie eye contact, and stood up, leaving the desk without saying a word to him.

“Um, okay great,” he called after her, adding “fucking fantastic,” quietly to himself. He spied Eddie’s file laying unattended on Karen’s desk. Sneaking a glance around to make sure no one was watching, he reached over and rifled through until he found Eddie’s location scrawled in the chart. He was in curtained triage in the back of the ER. 

Figuring stealth was key, Richie left Beverly behind and followed the signs hanging from the ceiling until he came upon the curtained area. He froze in his tracks when he heard Mrs. K talking. She was trying to convince Eddie to come home with her.

“…this is what happens when you’re off on your own. You end up in the hospital, or you get bronchitis… When are you going to learn that you can’t be trusted to take care of yourself?”

Richie couldn't see either of them but he could tell by the huskiness of Eddie’s voice that he was on the verge of tears, or already crying. “Mommy, I was fine, I swear. Everything was going well. I knew getting hit by the ride was a safety risk, they taught us the first day! I just was distracted today, that’s all.”

“Distracted by _what_ , exactly? Don’t think I didn't see that boy waiting for you out there. I wasn't born yesterday Eddie.”

“Richie? Richie’s here?” Eddie’s voice was small and sounded surprised.

_Of course I’m here Spaghetti Man._

“He’s vulgar, and very rude. Exactly the sort of people you shouldn't be spending time with. Him and that _girl_.”

“Oh so now you don’t want me hanging out with girls either? Make up your mind.”

Richie smiled at Eddie’s come-back, took a deep breath and swished his way through the curtains. Eddie wiped his eyes quickly with his good hand when he saw Richie. He smiled despite the tears, looking grateful for the interruption. “Hi Spaghetti Head, sorry it took so long, took them forever to give me permission to come see you,” he lied, wondering if he could get kicked out for looking at charts and sneaking around the ER.

Mrs. K was sitting in a chair next to Eddie’s bed. “Oh no you don’t, out!”

“Ma, you can’t kick him out, it’s my room.”

“He’s got a point there, Mrs. K. Besides, it’s not even a room so technically I could go stand outside the curtains and be ‘out’ and still talk to him. Now can I have a few minutes to visit with your son? I've been sitting out there for hours.”

Mrs. K’s laugh was bitter. “I don’t trust you to stay alone with him for two seconds. My son has always been prone to certain weaknesses,” she said, looking Richie up and down. “He’s going to come home with me tonight and you’ll never see him again if I have anything to say about it.”

Eddie’s voice was clear, with a deep edge that Richie had never heard before. “Ma, I want you to leave.”

“Eddie-bear, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Ma, I mean it, I want you to go home. Things never change with you, do they? It’s just like when I was a kid, with fucking fake pills and taking me to the emergency room for a scrape… I have a minor injury and you want to act like it means I can’t take care of myself? And now you’re making your weird passive aggressive comments about my sexuality when you don’t even know this person… I’m leaving here with Richie when they let me out. You can wait out there to say goodbye or just leave now, I don’t care.”

She started crying and tried to beg him but he stood his ground. Then she got loud and Eddie looked a little scared. Richie mentioned something about security and moved so that he was blocking her from going any closer to Eddie's bed. Mrs. K gave up, and after throwing one more contemptuous look at Richie, she walked out of the curtained area. They could hear her stomping away. Richie raised his eyebrows and called after her, “Y’know, homophobia is often a sign that you think you might like it,” and Eddie’s face lit up with a smile.

“ _Spaghetti Man!_ That was so incredibly bad-ass. You were right, you are a rebel.”

Eddie’s smile fell and he gave Richie a guilty look. “I’m sorry, about everything before.” he practically whispered.

Richie fiddled with his glasses as he stepped closer to the bed. “Kid, don’t worry about that right now. We can talk about it later if you want, I’m just happy you’re okay.”

He shook his head and looked down at his lap. “No, you were right. I was being a… an immature doofus?” he looked up at Richie, shyly. Ashamed. “I ran away from you. Twice. You came here to see me anyway, and waited for hours?”

“You’re a doofus, that’s true," Richie said, nodding, "but you have a get out of jail free card for busting yourself up.”

Eddie had a painful looking knot near his left temple and his right arm was straight-jacketed to his side via a sling over his shoulder. His eyes were tired and looked sort of out of it, but he was in one piece. He grimaced a little as he scooted and tried to rock himself into an upright position. “It’s my dominant arm,” he said miserably.

“Yeah but is it your..” Richie made a jerking off motion, “arm?”

Eddie put his good hand up to his eyes and chuckled. “You really do just say the most disgusting thing possible, don’t you..”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled Eddie into the gentlest hug he could manage, cupping the back of his neck. When they drew back Eddie dropped his chin again and said, “I still can’t believe this happened. I’m so embarrassed.”

Richie used his index finger to lightly graze up Eddie’s throat and tip his face up so their eyes met. “You get embarrassed a lot, huh? It was just an accident. Could've happened to anyone.”

“Yeah but I thought I was starting to know what I was doing, and I felt like, proud of myself for doing a good job. Now it just feels like I was kidding myself.”

 _This kid is always beating himself up. With a mother like that, it’s no fucking mystery_ why _he’s so insecure._

Richie thought back to the first night they’d gone out and how he felt like he _needed_ to tell Eddie nice things about himself. Everything made more sense to him after meeting Mrs. K. He wanted nothing more than to help Eddie feel better about himself. "Eds, you do a _great_ job, kid. Stop being so hard on yourself about everything. You kicked ass today, and stood up to your mom without getting out of breath? You should be proud of yourself…”

“Knock-knock,” they heard an upbeat voice say through the curtains, and an orderly walked in, armed with a clipboard full of paperwork for Eddie to sign and a few prescriptions to take home.

* * *

 

They arrived back at the dorm to a huge buzz of worried friends and coworkers. Judith visited to bring Eddie a plate of dinner from the cafeteria and to let him know that he didn't have to work until his sling came off. Once he _could_ work he’d only be on light duty. The company had even offered him a nicer room, one he’d have all to himself. After Judith left them, Richie joked that they were just trying to butter Eddie up so he wouldn't sue. The group helped with moving Eddie's stuff into the new room. They gathered there, everyone telling Eddie that he was suddenly a hot topic after the accident. The entire park was talking about it.

Eddie groaned as he adjusted the ice pack on his shoulder, “Great, now everyone is going to be whispering about me and pointing.”

“They already were doing that Eds,” Richie joked, and Eddie swatted at him with his good arm. Richie was stretched out on the bed next to him while the rest of the gang was crowded on the other bed. It was a vacant room, but not a single.

“S-so how long do you have to wear that thing?,” Bill asked, indicating the sling.

"Yeah, and does it hurt?," Stan added.

Eddie made an annoyed face. “They said three to five days for the sling. Yeah, it hurts, but the medicine helps. The pain is supposed to be totally gone by two weeks, but I can’t lift anything heavy for three months.”

Beverly looked a little guilty and sat up taller on the bed as she said, “Sounds like I’m going to have to stop my slacking on the job, I guess. You're going to be riding the bench, pressing buttons in the control booth from now on.”

“You should have been taking turns with him working the booth from the beginning,” Ben chided her. Both he and Mike were annoyed that Richie and Bev had hauled ass to the hospital without bothering to stop and tell anyone else what was going on, and they weren't being shy about it.

Mike shook his head. “I still can’t believe it was you. People were talking about some kid who got hurt and it was almost an hour after it went down that someone mentioned where it happened, and I was like ‘Oh shit!’ We’re so glad you’re okay. _Some_ people should have thought about the fact that we all might have liked to go see you.”

Richie quickly defended himself. “Hey man, they didn't even _let_ us see him for hours. I had to sneak back there to get to him, in fact.”

Bev concurred, “Yeah and I didn't even really see him in the hospital until he was being discharged. It was just a lot of waiting…” She added quietly, “And his mom being a jerk to Richie.”

Eddie yawned and rolled his hips a little to settle himself down deeper into his pillow. Richie took that as his opportunity to kick everyone out. Eddie needed to rest. He herded them all through the door, but stayed behind himself, earning a knowing smirk from Stan. Rolling his eyes at his roommate, Richie shut the door and came back to the bed to resume his position, laying on his side on the edge of the twin bed. He suddenly realized that he was exhausted, taking his glasses off and closing his eyes. The day had been long and emotionally draining for everyone. 

“I’m sorry that my mom was a jerk to you. Ever since I came out to her she's like that with any male friend of mine she meets. It doesn't matter who they are or what they actually mean to me, she just assumes that we’re… y’know..” 

Richie didn't bother to open his eyes when he said, “But she assumed right this time, no? We might not be ‘y’now,’ but we at least want to ‘y’know.’” The silence stretched for longer than Richie expected it to, and he peeked one eye open to catch Eddie staring down at him. He propped himself up on his elbow. "What's up Spaghetti Man? Talk to me."

Eddie looked like he'd rather hurl himself off a cliff than talk about it, but he began quietly, "I remember everything I said to you at the bowling alley. And in the _car,"_ whispering and scrunching his face up on the last word.

Richie grinned widely. "Yeah I remember everything you said in the car too, I wrote it all down in my diary."

"You don't have a diary," Eddie said, shaking his head and looking away.

"I don't, but I think I might have to start one if you keep saying shit like that. Look, you don't have to be embarrassed. It was cute. Everything about you is cute. You could probably punch me in the face and I'd be like 'look at the adorable way he made a fist.'"

Eddie smiled but he was still looking away, pretending to stare out the window. Richie brought his hand to Eddie's face and gently turned it towards himself. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Really. And I'm going to make good on my promise to wreck you, as soon as you're feeling better." 

He brought his face close to Eddie's and softly put their lips together in a series of sweet little butterfly kisses that Eddie matched, until he whispered against Richie's lips, "we're breaking the rules."

Richie pulled his face back, chuckling softly. "How did I fucking know you'd bring that up, Eds," he said, as he grazed his thumb across the uninjured side of Eddie's forehead and down his face before caressing his hair, "Fuckin' boyscout."

Eddie closed his eyes and nuzzled his head against Richie's hand. His voice was small and far-away. "When we weren't talking, I missed you so much. I sent Bev to try to help fix it and she said you were mad." Richie cringed at that and readjusted himself so they were laying side by side, facing up with their heads close together.

"I missed you, too. I know I was being a jerk, I'm sorry for being like that... nothing like someone you care about getting hurt to slap you in the face with instant regret, though." Eddie didn't respond, and Richie looked over to see that he had fallen asleep. He gently removed the ice pack from Eddie's shoulder and placed it next to his glasses on the bedside table. Pressing a soft kiss to Eddie's forehead, Richie snuggled down to join him in a nap.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual content here. This is my first time writing anything dirty and it's pretty mild, frottage

Richie’s body had a new semi-permanent state: throbbing. He didn't really want to complain about it, because it was a good throb. Half the time his blood felt like it was on fire, and the other half it felt like something was tickling him on the inside of his torso with a feather. Neither sensation was unpleasant, but they were continuous –  like he was in some sort of arousal-limbo. However the longer-term effects of being in limbo were not as pleasant as the warm fuzzies. Like the novelty of being able to think of things other than Eddie’s hands, his body, his mouth. Richie was a trifle obsessed and it made it harder to focus on work. His first, second and third incidences of blue balls since high school were also less than fun.

Eddie straddled his lap, rosey and beautiful in the early evening light. He and Richie were making out in the backseat of the station wagon, parked outside of the movie theater. They had left the movie halfway through because they couldn't stop touching each other. Richie was caught up in the rhythm of their tongues crashing into one another, and he softly ran his hands up and down Eddie’s back and into his hair in a wide circular motion. The sling had just come off, but Richie still needed to be gentle around his shoulder.

Richie's breath became involuntarily shuddery as Eddie sucked down his neck. He knew that any second now, they were going to stop. That’s the way it always seemed to play out, and he’d come to expect it. He could feel pressure in the hollow just above his collarbone, stinging, wet, soft prickling with the slightest nip of teeth that made him wince and gasp. “Spaghetti,” he whispered, “you’re killing me.”

They hadn't talked about the lack of forward progress in their physical relationship. Richie thought that was to be expected, since they didn't even have a conversation about titles or where things were going in the long run. He was slightly scared to say the wrong thing and press on Eddie’s seemingly hair-trigger flight response.

Richie was so frustrated that he had a recurring dream that he transformed into a fountain of cum, with streams of cum shooting up and out of himself like it was released from a high pressure fire hose. Beverly heard about the dreams, and he got punched on the arm because she claimed she’d never be able to get rid of the mental image, and it ‘scarred her for life.’

Although he talked a big game (while drunk, anyway), Eddie was inexperienced and had no idea what he was doing. He’d only fooled around with two guys in his life, one of which was just a make-out slut, while the other hadn't gotten serious enough for Eddie to consider doing very much below the belt. Richie found that information to be impossible. He hadn't had a relationship that failed to go below the belt since he was sixteen.

Eddie's mouth was up against his ear releasing hot breath, and Richie felt his head tingling. His body slowly broke out in goose bumps just on one side, the left side of his body buzzing to match that ear. Sometimes he thought the kid did it on purpose, drove him crazy when he had no intention of following through with anything. As though the prospect of turning Richie on to the point that he almost exploded was enough to sate Eddie, and those thoughts, the idea that Eddie got off on tormenting him made Richie more turned on in a vicious cycle. But did that even make sense? Maybe he was actually losing his mind over this shit. He squirmed his lower body around and shifted to put a little pressure on his own dick and could feel Eddie pull his weight off a little, start to draw back.

_Oh fuck you, kid._

“It’s getting kind of late, maybe we should go back.”

Richie tried to keep himself from panting audibly, but it was difficult. “I’m going to die, Eds. Don’t you feel a little bad about it?”

“You’re not going to die." Eddie flipped his little body over the seat, into the front and buckled himself in. "Don’t be so dramatic.”

Richie opened the back door to the car and stepped around into the driver’s seat. After he sat down he rubbed his face for a minute before putting his glasses back on. He had taken to wearing them all the time because Eddie liked them. “I know I won’t actually die, but I think Stanley knows that I’m jerking off every single night. It’s creepy for both of us.”

Eddie looked out the window and didn't say anything. The engine stumbled and sputtered before turning on, and the radio blared.

_….Breathe out, so I can breathe you in. Hold you in. And now, I know you've always been, out of your head. I’m out of my head I sang. And I wonder, when I sing along with you. If everything could ever feel this real forever. If anything could ever be this good again. The only thing I’ll ever ask of you, you gotta promise not to stop when I say when…._

* * *

Richie was sitting with Ben, eating lunch in the smoker’s unofficial area. He had dipped away from his booth to eat with his friend without being scheduled. “So Benny, have you and Beverly… uh… Have you played ‘hide the salami,’ yet?”

Ben almost spit out his pizza laughing at that one. “Yeah. I mean, of course.” Richie knew it was a stupid question. He’d seen the lust in Bev’s eyes that first night they’d all gone out together. She’d been on a seek and destroy mission, and her target was locked at first sight. Ben put down his pizza crust. “So I guess based on what you just asked, you and Eddie _haven’t_ played ‘hide the salami,’ yet. Right?”

Richie looked at the ground and suddenly felt very tired. He heaved a big sigh. “No, we haven’t. And the salami… it’s getting to the point where it’s too hard and big to be hidden? Like a fucking over-cooked kielbasa, or like a… an engorged…”

“Beep-beep, Richie. I get it, enough.”

“Has Bev said anything to you about Eddie? I mean does she talk about anything with you?”

Ben shook his head. “Mostly when you tell Bev something it’s in the vault. It sounds like you need to talk to her yourself,” he said as he started gathering his trash to get back to work, “or maybe you should talk to Eddie. That’s a novel idea, right?”

Richie stood up and followed Ben back into the park, instinctively looking over his shoulder towards the ferris wheel. He felt like one of those dogs that hunters used to find fallen birds in the woods. When he knew Eddie was near, his entire state of being pointed towards him. Beverly was off that day, but he could see Eddie sitting in the control booth, paying close attention to the lighted board.

_Talking to Eddie is a novel idea, alright. Once we’re alone together all our tongues know how to do is attempt to merge into one mass. Siamese twins, locked together at the face._

* * *

There were twenty minutes left in his shift, and Bev came sauntering up like an angel of mercy. He was so fucking bored and his mind was spinning around thinking about Eddie and his own dick. It was probably really unhealthy to be so obsessed. Bev came behind the booth and sat, same as always. “So, how’s everything going?”

She already knew about his blue balls, his frustrations, his cum fountain dreams. She was just asking to be polite. She knew the answer. “Peachy-keen jellybean. I’m about--” He pretended to look at a watch he wasn't wearing. “--Oh, about thirty minutes away from the one thing that is simultaneously the best and worst part of my life right now. How’s tricks with you?”

Bev had a thoughtful expression as she said “Is _Eddie_ the best and worst thing in your life, or is it the never-ending foreplay?” Richie didn't answer. If he had to pin point it, it was the feeling inside, that was the best/worst thing. The bubbly, tingly, fluffy, tickly buzz in his lower belly that didn't go away. He felt himself getting lost in the feeling as he stood there behind the booth. He pictured Eddie, straddling him in the backseat of the car with a wet mouth leaving a mark on his upper chest. “Um hello, Earth to Richie Tozier.” Bev waved her hands around to catch his attention. “what’s the thing?”

“It’s all of it. All of it is the best/worst thing." Richie looked at her.  "Like imagine being told that you won a million dollars, but then they tell you you can’t spend any of it. Or imagine that you’re starving and you find a crate full of burgers and fries, but it’s locked. So you can smell the food but you’ll never eat it.”

“I think we’re being a little fucking dramatic here, don’t you, dude?" Beverly laughed at him. "He’s inexperienced. You’re not. I think he’s just worried that he won’t be good at stuff and he’s stalling.”

“Bev, he could be the actual worst at everything and it wouldn't matter, as long as he was interested in trying.” It was true. Richie didn't expect a miracle from someone who was basically a virgin, and Eddie wasn't the first inexperienced guy he’d been with. Beverly stood up and hugged Richie fiercely. He was taken aback at first, but returned the hug. “What’s that for?”

“Because you’re a good guy. You just need to be a little more patient, I know it’s hard.. _literally”_ she said, widening her eyes and looking at his crotch. He pushed her away, laughing. Bev balanced herself and continued, “Just talk to him. I know you guys are all weird and tentative about shit. You’re afraid he’ll run away again like a squirrel and you’ll be back to moping and listening to fucking Morrissey or something. I don’t think he’ll pull away again.”

* * *

 Richie planned a real date for them to go on. It was hokey and made him feel cheesy, but he knew Eddie would like the effort. He made a reservation at a nice restaurant near the amusement park and they were going to follow that up with mini-golf, only after surveying everyone to ask if they thought it would be too strenuous for Eddie's healing shoulder. The general consensus was "calm down."

The whole date, the planning of it made him feel silly but he figured Eddie would think it was cute. For all his frustration and near-madness over endless make-out hell, he really just wanted to make Eddie happy. Neither of them packed overly nice clothes for their summer work experience, but Richie tried to dress up in a dark olive collared shirt and jeans with less holes than his favorite pair. Eddie was in a pastel polo and nice pants, and his hair was beginning to curl up because he needed a cut. It made him look even more adorable.

Dinner was nice, Eddie had a couple glasses of red wine that put a flush into his cheeks. Richie paid for both of their meals and opened the car door for Eddie, real gentlemanly shit. He was putting on the works for his guy, and he wasn't doing it with the intention of getting into his pants, either. His only goal was to make Eddie shine brighter than the sun when he smiled and it seemed to be working. Mini-golf was a surprise and he could tell Eddie thought it was cute, but they were both equally terrible at it. Richie was too tall to get good leverage on the little club and ended up pool-shooting the balls, which Eddie found embarrassing. Of course he did. They ended the game not knowing who won because they were both above par so many times.

After the date, they sat in Richie’s car, talking about the future for the first time, speculating about what was going to happen when they were both back at school. They didn't live an impossible distance away from one another, without traffic it would be about an hour’s drive. Richie would be done with school by the next spring anyway, and he was pretty open to heading towards wherever the action took him in life. He was on a waiting list to intern at a radio station close to his home town, but it wasn't the end-all-be-all for him. Eddie wasn't sure what he wanted to do with his life. He’d dreamed of moving to New York, simply because it seemed sexy and exciting. The city was dirty, brusque, and vibrating with people, things that made his phantom asthma flare up and reminded him of what a germaphobe he used to be.

“I went to NY with some people from school last year, and the first time I put my hands on a subway pole I thought I might faint. I was afraid I’d catch the plague or something.”

Richie smiled. “To catch the plague in NY I think you might need to bite a sewer rat. I’d be more worried about mariachi bands coming into the car while you’re trying to read. Ear-plague.”

Eddie got quiet for a minute, staring out the window. _Pensive Eddie_ , was what Richie called it. When it was obvious that he wanted to say something but he was stalling on it. “What are you thinking about, pip squeak?”

Eddie crinkled up his nose at the name. “Kissing you. Wanting to, but not wanting to leave you wanting more. And then hating myself for being the way I am.”

“Kid, you don’t have to hate yourself. I took you on a nice date tonight because there are no expectations on my end. I just like spending time with you. I don’t want to put pressure on you.”

Eddie’s voice was really quiet. “Maybe someone needs to.” Richie shook his head, confused. “What are you talking about, Eddie?”

“It feels like everything I do, I just do it because it’s something someone is expecting me to do. There are things I _want_ to do, but my own motivation isn't enough to get me to do them because I get scared… I’m sorry if I’m not making sense.” He looked over at Richie, and scooted a little closer to him on the long seat.

Richie took his hand. “You make sense, Spaghetti Man, but I don’t know how to help you with all that. I just know you should be doing what _you_ want. Not what other people expect.”

Eddie suddenly moved, perching himself on Richie’s lap, so they were facing one another. They started kissing, little nibbly kisses at first and then deeply, Eddie running his hands through Richie’s hair. Chucking his glasses across the car seat, Richie buried his face into Eddie’s neck, just breathing him in, letting Eddie take the lead. The little guy was rocking his hips in a series of slow figure eights, and the friction was driving Richie crazy again, but Eddie didn't stop this time, he didn't run. He pressed his forehead against Richie’s and changed the direction of his movement, forward and back.

Richie gasped and couldn't keep himself from whimpering a little bit. “You feel so fucking good,” he whispered against Eddie’s face.

Bringing his mouth close to Richie’s ear, Eddie whispered, “I want to make you cum in your pants.”  It was such a dirty thing to hear this kid say, and Richie couldn't help but laugh a little, because that was exactly what was going to happen if he kept going.

“Kid, you’re cl-close. I… h-haven’t came in my pants from… dry humping in long time.”

Eddie slowed down his grinding. “Do you not want to? I mean we don’t have to.”

Richie picked up the movement himself, clamping his hands down on the space where Eddie’s hips met his thighs. “At what point did I say I didn't like it?”

“Just kidding,” Eddie whispered with a smirk. Picking up the pace, he rocked again, this time shaking his butt subtly from side to side quickly, so that Richie felt like his crotch was vibrating.

“ _Fuck_ , Eddie.”

Resuming the figure eight motion faster than before, Eddie dragged his mouth down Richie’s neck. Richie was in sensory overload and threw his head back against the head rest, biting his lip to keep himself from making noise as he ran his hands up and down Eddie’s thighs. Eddie switched movements abruptly and went back to forward and back, with added pressure so he was bouncing down deeper on the way forward. Richie lost it at that point and came hard, letting out an involuntary and barely restrained throaty noise.

Eddie leaned his head against Richie’s chest and they wrapped their arms around each other. “Now Stan doesn't have to hear you jerk off tonight.”

“So generous." He kissed Eddie on the top of his head. "You’re also going to wash these pants, I hope you realize that.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang is hanging out, lucky 7 in full effect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to neonwaves for inspiring me to write more for this fic.

Richie kept stealing glances over his shoulder towards the back of the theater. He was seated at the movies holding good seats with Ben and Stan while the rest of their friends were off buying snacks. The group opted to go see a movie together for their weekly Bev-needs-bonding night and Richie was excited at the prospect of actually being able to _finish_ a movie. He figured that he and Eddie could keep their paws off of each other provided that others were present. Stan sat in the row in front of him, with a hoodie spread across a few seats. “Stanley, are you gonna put the moves on Denbrough tonight?”

“Maybe. Maybe I already have, Tozier. You’re a little too distracted by a certain someone to notice much of what goes on around here anymore.”

It was true. Richie was totally preoccupied and had been swept up by Eddie. Now that he had a room all to himself, they were breaking the dorm rules on a nightly basis but Eddie was still a little bashful about how far they went. Ben turned around and faced them from his spot in the row in front of Stan. “So where’s poor Mike going to sit? He’s a third wheel in any of these rows.” Stan’s crush on Bill had become common knowledge among the gang. Bill said something to Mike about it once, and seemed interested. The information was telephoned to Ben which of course meant that Beverly, eternal matchmaker that she was, shoved them together whenever the opportunity arose.

Richie threw up his hands. “He should sit with you and Bev, Benny. You guys get plenty of alone time. Let Stanley have the row so he can step up to bat.”

Stan looked grossed out. “Ugh, don’t use sports metaphors to talk about sex like we’re in a high school locker room.”

“ _Sex_? Yowza Stanley, aren't we being presumptuous?”

Stan turned around and reached out to swat at Richie, who pulled himself way back in his seat. “You know what I meant! Don’t use sports metaphors to talk about.. whatever, _foreplay_.”

Ben waved his hands at them to get their attention back. “Hey, you two get as much alone time as we do,” he said to Richie, “why shouldn't Mike sit with you?”

“Because you've played hide the salami Benjamin, some of us are still working on it,” Richie said loudly, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Stan covered his face. “You’re so fucking embarrassing. I don’t know how Eddie stands you.”

Richie pressed his foot into the back of Stan’s chair because he knew it would result in maximum spazzing. “Maybe Eddie has a humiliation fetish. Or maybe it’s just that I’m so awesome and hilarious that he powers through the uncomfortable stuff because he knows the real deal is worth it.”

“It’s because you’re pretty,” Eddie said, sitting down beside Richie as he shoved a tub of popcorn into his hands. “If you weren't I would probably hate you.”

The rest of the group filtered into the seats and Mike sat down in Bev and Ben’s row. Richie chucked popcorn at Ben until he turned around. _Fate,_ Richie mouthed at him and Benny flipped a casual bird over his shoulder as he turned forward to face the screen. The lights went down as the previews started. “I could never hate you,” Eddie whispered into his ear. Richie smiled and silently took his little hand and kissed it before lacing their fingers together on the seat rest between them. They were seeing _As Good As It Gets,_ but only after a heated argument in the ticket line. Bev and Richie wanted to see _Liar, Liar,_ while Eddie and Stan wanted to see _Titanic._ Mike and Ben voted for _Men in Black_. Bill suggested they see his first choice, because Jack Nicholson was one of his favorite actors and the movie was supposed to be really good, Oscar-worthy.

Richie wasn't paying attention to the movie. He rubbed little circles on Eddie’s palm with his thumb until he felt a pinch. Eddie leaned over and whispered, “Wasn't the point of coming here with everyone to keep us from wasting money at the movies?”

Richie pushed his glasses up on his nose and got close to Eddie’s ear. “The point for me right now is to watch Stanley the Manley try to lay pipe with this kid right here. I’m good at multitasking so I can do that while petting your hand.”

Eddie’s head had begun shaking at _lay pipe_. “I changed my mind, I do hate you.”

 _Shhhhh_ Stanley turned around and whispered, “Shut up, both of you.” His eyes zeroed in on Richie. “If you kick my chair at all I’m going to kill you in your sleep tonight.”

Richie decided to be merciful and closed his mouth for the remainder of the film. Bev and Ben started making out at one point and he nudged Eddie in the ribs. Eddie whispered, “Jeez, get a room,” and then his eyes moved from the couple over to Stan, and they widened a little. Richie leaned over into Eddie’s seat so he had the same view, and saw Stan’s hand tucked up in Bill’s lap. He smiled widely at Eddie and gave him a thumbs-up.

* * *

After the movie ended they went to the diner. They sat at one of the big tables with a curved booth. Eddie got a milk shake but just played with his straw, using his finger to hold the liquid inside of it and watching as it gushed back out the bottom. He seemed a bit shaken up by the film. One scene in particular was tough for most of them to watch; a gay man got the shit beaten out of him by a bunch of assholes. “I still think _Liar, Liar_ would have been a better movie to watch. That shit was kinda depressing, Bill. And besides who doesn't love Jim Carey?” Beverly said as she poured syrup over her french toast.

Bill shrugged. “Life isn't always funny and happy. S-sometimes bad things happen, sometimes people have f-flaws or insecurities that make things harder. But life is still w-worth it. So I don’t think the m-movie was depressing. It was h-hopeful.”

_Shit kid. No wonder Stan is in love with you. What a fucking insightful sweetheart._

Mike waggled his head like he was in awe. “Wow, that’s deep. My roommate, such an optimist.”

Richie snuck a glance at Stan, who was clearly smitten. They locked eyes and Stan just smiled at him genuinely. He felt himself coming around on the prospect of giddy Stan. It didn't feel _wrong_ anymore. Richie turned his attention back to Eddie, who had stopped fooling around with his shake. He looked a little pacified by Bill’s words. Richie made an exaggerated yawn-and-stretch motion to put his arm around Eddie. The rest of the table laughed at him which had been part of the goal, but he could see that Eddie melted a little and scooted closer to him.

Ben put down his grilled cheese. “Am I the only one who thought that the dog was the best part of the movie?” Eddie and Stan raised their hands.

Bill shook his head. “Jack Nicholson and Helen Hunt are going to get Oscars. P-p-predicting it right now. And the ending was sweet, it was a good movie.” Richie watched as Bill’s right hand subtly moved over and rested on Stan’s knee under the table.

He ducked his head to Eddie’s ear. “I think we should have a sleepover tonight. Give Stan the room.”

Beverly snapped her fingers at him. “Secrets, whisper-twins?”

Richie pursed his lips at her, “Nah, I was just telling Eddie about this dream I keep having about his mom.” Eddie’s little fist connected with his thigh and he removed Richie’s arm from around himself as he shifted a little closer to Mike. “ _Oww_ Spaghetti, so violent.”

Eddie ignored him. “I think we should go back to see _Titanic_ before the summer is over. I know it’s long, and sappy or whatever but it’s supposed to be really good. And Leonardo DiCaprio…” Richie shook his head, mostly at himself because he knew he was jealous of a celebrity. Crushes on the _Ghostbusters_ were cute and all, but this Leo character was _Romeo_ for real and Eddie had a crush on him since he was young _._

Bev made a face. “Leo is _too_ pretty. It should be illegal to be perfect like that. It weirds me out.”

Ben frowned and looked at her curiously. “I don’t know if I should feel happy or sad to hear you say that.” She leaned in and kissed him, putting her hand on his face to fluff his facial hair.

“Come on guys, I saw enough of this stuff during the movie. You’re both gross,” Mike said, and Richie felt suddenly bad about the fact that they’d all paired off. He thought seven was lucky, but maybe it wasn't when one person ended up odd-man-out.

* * *

After dinner, Richie drove the gang back to the dorm but he and Eddie hung back alone in the car after everyone else went inside. They liked to do this thing where they played their favorite songs for one another. Richie would set the tone for the reveal and he said things like: _“Play me a song that makes you feel like you can kick someone’s ass,”_ or _“Play me a song that makes you smile so wide you feel like a big dummy.”_ The game that night had been _“Play me a song that makes you want to get it on in a big way.”_

Eddie’s musical taste was softer, often very eclectic, and overtly romantic compared to Richie’s. “So did you bring along a sexy song this time Eds?” The little guy begrudgingly pulled a cassette tape out of his fanny pack. Richie grinned, “Let’s hear it.” Eddie popped it into the deck in the dashboard.

_….I watched you suffer, a dull aching pain. Now you've decided to show me the same. But no sweeping exits, or offstage lines. Could make me feel bitter, or treat you unkind. Wild horses, couldn't drag me away. Wild horses, couldn't drag me away. Faith has been broken, tears must be cried. Let’s do some living, oh why do we die? Wild horses, couldn't drag me away. Wild, wild, horses, we’ll ride them someday…_

The Sundays filled the car and Richie listened intently, though he’d heard it before. Part of this game for him was putting himself into Eddie’s shoes; he tried to figure out what was special about the music. “This is a pretty song Edward Spaghedward, I know the Stones version.”

Eddie rolled his eyes at the nickname and looked a little embarrassed when he said, “I heard this version when I watched this movie… _Fear_? Have you ever seen it?”

Richie shrugged, “Nope.”

Eddie looked out the car window and continued speaking. “There’s this scene where this guy and his girlfriend go up on a roller coaster together and he… He you know… Touches her or whatever, like to _completion_ while they’re riding it... And they play this song. It’s so sexy. I liked the song so much and then I found out it was a cover. The original is obviously a better version but I like both…”

“’ _To completion_?’ You dork. So are you saying you want me to jerk you off on the roller coaster? Because that’s hot, but I don’t think I can ride it without keeping my eyes shut and holding onto the bar the whole time.”

Eddie turned beet red and a pained expression stole over his face. “I didn't say anything like that at all. I was just telling you about a song I liked. Yeah, I guess I like that scene but it’s not really practical anyway…” He shook his head, “You’re just such an asshole sometimes.”

“Yeah, it’s been my thing for the past, like…" he bobbed his head like he was counting, "twelve years now. But I have layers, Eds.”

“Twelve years. You were an asshole when you were ten?”

Richie looked proud. “Yeah I was a little fuckin’ wise ass. What were you like?”

“Scared of everything, in and out of hospitals. I got picked on a lot because I was smaller than everyone else.” He looked at Richie with his eyebrows tensed and said, “And if you say anything about me still being smaller than everyone now, I’ll twist your nipple so fucking hard.”

“Promise?” Eddie did it anyway, or attempted to at least. He jabbed his little hand out like a rattlesnake snapping at someone’s ankle and went straight for Richie’s chest. Richie caught his hand and held it away from himself. “Not so fast. Don’t you want to hear my sexy song?”

Eddie folded his arms across his chest. “I suppose.”

Richie hung his long body over the front seat and dug around in back until he found a beaten up multi-CD case. He flipped around a little bit and then said, “Bingo.” Popping it in, he cued up the right track. “I mean, I don’t know how sexy you’ll think this is… but to me, it’s killer. The music, the lyrics… everything.”

_….I’m on a roll. I’m on a roll, this time. I feel my luck could change. Kill me, Sarah. Kill me again, with love. It’s gonna be a glorious day. Pull me out of the aircrash. Pull me out of the lake. ‘Cause I’m your super hero. We are standing on the edge. The Head of State has called for me, by name. But I don’t have time for him. It’s gonna be, a glorious day. I feel my luck could change…._

Eddie had his eyes closed as he listened to the song. Richie tried to gage his reaction but occasionally Eddie could be a fantastic little poker player. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose because what he really wanted was to drag Eddie across the seat and kiss him like they were on a sinking ship. But that wasn't the point of their music sharing ritual. As the song reached a break down in the music, Eddie opened his eyes. “I get it. It’s like apocalyptic. Everything could be going shitty but this guy is still optimistic, about love and about surviving. Right?”

Richie’s face softened as he returned his glasses to their rightful place and he knew he looked suddenly shy, exposed. That _was_ the point of the whole exercise but he usually tried to elicit that sort of response from Eddie, not from himself. “Right, Spaghetti,” he said in a small voice, “You hit it right on the head.”

“It is sexy, I like it.” Eddie seemed to sense his vulnerability and crawled a little closer, sitting on his knees facing Richie. He reached up and removed the glasses, petting his hands down Richie’s face. “You shouldn't be jealous of Leo, you’re prettier than he is.” Richie couldn't take it anymore and he grabbed Eddie’s head with both hands, kissing him hungrily. He blindly waved one hand at the radio and skipped back to play the track again as they kissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs:  
> The Sundays – Wild Horses  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BiyCkSOF1pc  
> Radiohead – Lucky  
> This song might not fit the timeline perfectly but IDGAF  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=epfCmio4VZA
> 
> the scene that gets Eddie hot and bothered, haha https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tumI28B48wY


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie gets in trouble at work and it throws him into a little existential funk. The gang goes to a music festival. Minor drug use.

“Are you really going to take the word of some mouth-breather over mine, Judith? You know this is bullshi- sorry.” Richie shifted in his seat and attempted to look contrite. He was called into the office at the end of his shift because a customer complained about his vocabulary. It felt like he was sitting in the high school principal’s office. _“You’re a smart kid, Tozier, so I don’t understand why you can’t seem to learn when to keep your mouth shut_.” Richie’d gotten straight A’s in school but he always lacked decorum.

Judith averted his eyes as she shuffled through a handbook on her desk. “Richard, I have to write you up after three verbal warnings, it’s policy. Once it’s down on paper it’s taken more seriously, obviously. Three writtens will be grounds for termination. We only have three weeks left this season. Do you really want to get fired from this job?” Judith spoke to him as she checked boxes on a form that was obviously a run-off of a copy, it looked ancient and faded. 

“I don’t imagine you see yourself making a career out of this type of work, but it’s nice to be able to put something untarnished on your resume for the future.” Richie sat with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in front of his mouth. He nodded along to what she was saying but internally he tuned her out. He’d heard this sort of shit before from professors, from his parents, from select exes, and lately, from Stanley. Though from his roommate it was shorter and saltier. _“You’re a pain in the ass who takes things way too far, get serious.”_

“Judith, I’m really going to try, okay? Promise.” A silence fell over the office while she finished up the paperwork. Richie didn't even bother to read it; he signed at the bottom and took his copy.

Eddie was sitting in the chairs outside the office, waiting for him. “What did you do this time?”

Richie sighed because he felt like he just walked into the second lecture of a four lecture series. He’d have to hear the same shit from Stan and Bev later on. “’Big Mouth Strikes Again,’ Eds. What else is new? Can we not talk about this, right now? I just want to go eat.” He strode in the direction of the cafeteria quickly and Eddie had to jog a little to keep up with him.

“Slow down, please. Richie, why don’t you just think before you say stuff sometimes? I mean someday you’re going to get into trouble in a job that actually matters...”

Richie stopped walking abruptly and faced Eddie. “Do you have a fucking clue what it’s like to have people constantly telling you that your natural state of being is the wrong way for you to be?’”

The little guy’s body jerked at the force of himself stopping short and it would have been funny if Richie wasn't in a bad mood. Eddie sucked in his bottom lip and nodded, turning his eyes downcast.

Richie’s voice was soft and a little sad when he said, “Okay, so since you know what that’s like.. lay off.” He started walking again, but not as quickly as before. Eddie trailed along next to him.

They reached the caf and Richie plodded straight for the food, leaving Eddie behind amidst the hustle and bustle. He knew that what Eddie and everyone else told him was true, and good advice to be sure, but that didn't mean it felt good. He collected his dinner and headed for the group’s usual table, plunking his tray down in silence.

“What’s with you?” Bev asked as her eyes appraised him. He shook his head and kept his eyes focused on his meal. “Everything is peachy.”

“Oooo-kay,” Beverly said, “Where’s Eddie?” Richie just shrugged.

Stan’s voice dripped with false enthusiasm. “Great, they’re not speaking again. Loads of fun headed our way.”

Eddie arrived at the table and sat down next to Richie. He flashed a sad little smile at his friends and started eating. Bill leaned towards Stan and fake whispered, “They’re sitting next to each other, s-so that’s a good sign.”

Richie didn't take his eyes off of his food. “Find a new topic, guys. Seriously.”

“Hey, where’s Mike?” Eddie asked.

Ben pointed across the cafeteria.“He’s sitting with Bev’s roommate.”

Beverly rolled her eyes and sounded disgusted when she said, “Yeah, she’s the worst and he’s been hanging out with her a lot. She better not think she’s coming with us this weekend. Oh right, I didn't tell you guys..” Bev started talking about a concert she heard about that she wanted them all to go to the following Saturday night.

“I’ll go but I’m not driving,” Richie said, looking up at Bill, “You’re the only other person with a large enough boat, Denbrough.”

Bill’s car was a mom-mobile, his parent’s old mini-van. Bill looked surprised that he’d be selected as the driver. “Uh, yeah I can drive us. No p-problem.”

Stanley smiled. “Shotgun!”

“You have to be in the vicinity of the car to say shotgun. It doesn't count,” Ben called over to Stan from his spot beside Bev.

Stan looked incredulous. “If Richie is allowed to ignore shotgun rules entirely to give Eddie the front seat in his car - and I remind you that meant he forced me to sit in the baby seat in the back -then I can do whatever I want when it’s Bill’s car.”

Richie smiled for the first time since he’d left the meeting with Judith. “Stanley the Manley. Do you get special privileges in Billy-boy’s car? That’s so fucking adorable.”

Stan turned pink; clearly he hadn't realized what he’d said and the way he’d said it. “Yeah, he does,” Bill said matter-of-factly as he gave Richie a soft but serious look.

“I’m glad to hear it boys,” Richie said as he stood up and collected his half eaten food to throw away, “I’m kinda beat, see you guys later.” He walked away from the table without saying anything to Eddie, and he felt immediately guilty about it, but pressed on anyway. He tossed his copy of the written warning in the trash along with his food.

* * *

Richie spent a quiet evening alone. He listened to music and tried not to dwell on things, but he’d taken everything hard. The warnings and lectures just served as reminders that his parents were right about him all along. Once when he was young, he overheard his mother on the phone saying that she ‘wished her child was different.’ She couldn't relate to him: he was too loud, always joking, and he embarrassed her. Richie couldn't have been older than twelve at the time, and her words hurt him. A couple years later, when he came out to his parents as bisexual, his mother cried. It should have been tattooed on his forehead, _Richie Tozier: eternally disappointing._

_Stop thinking about this shit. It doesn't help._

Curfew approached and Stan had yet to make an appearance in their room that night. Richie got his stuff together to get ready for bed and headed for the bathroom. He quickly brushed his teeth and on the way back to his room he saw Mike leaning on the wall saying goodnight to Bev’s roommate Greta. Not in the mood to say hi to anyone, Richie slipped quietly through the door. He was surprised to see Eddie sitting on his bed waiting for him. “Hey,” Richie said.

“Hi… I came here to say I’m sorry. You don’t need one more person lecturing you about being yourself too much.” Richie put down his bathroom stuff and sat next to Eddie on the bed.

This was pretty cute, he hadn't expected it and he nudged the nugget with his shoulder. “Please, continue.”

Eddie huffed a breathy little laugh and looked down. “What you said, about people telling you to stop being what comes natural or whatever, I don’t remember exactly.. I’m just sorry because the first thing out of my mouth when you came out of the office was _‘what did you do,’_ that’s all.”

“It’s okay Spaghetti. None of this was your fault. Getting in trouble for being a loudmouth just reminds me that my mother has been right about me all along and bums me out.”

Eddie took Richie’s hand and cradled it in his lap. "First of all, your mom sucks just as much as my mom, and they are both wrong about us." He smiled. “Richie, I like you because you’re _you_. Sometimes you drive me crazy - okay you drive everyone crazy- sometimes you take things too far… But seeing you sad and quiet sitting at dinner was creepy. You should probably try to tone it down at work for your own sake, but I’m not going to lecture you about it anymore, okay?”

“Thanks,” Richie said, as he brought his mouth to Eddie’s neck. He made like he was going to kiss it, but then he blew out air and it made a farting sound.

Eddie giggled and squealed, “ _Stop_!”

* * *

The “concert” that Bev wanted them to go to was really a festival. It was a huge outdoor event with multiple stages and booths and an enormous crowd of people. They all piled into Bill’s van -including Bev’s roommate Greta- and Richie vowed to be civil to her despite the _glowing_ recommendation she came with from Bev. _“She’s a snob and she’s mean. She called Eddie a twerp and said if she knew him in high school she would have made his life hell.”_

They arrived in the evening after last shift and Bill’s van had to traverse a gigantic grassy knoll to get to the parking area. There was a sea of cars parked on a steep incline and they were all a little worried that the emergency brake wouldn't hold out and they’d come back to find the van demolished in a ditch. As they piled out of the car, Richie could immediately tell that Eddie became itchy at the sight of the crowd and rustic setting. “You going to be okay tonight, kid?”

Eddie’s small hand fingered at the front of his fanny pack, poised to pull out his inhaler quicker than a dueling gunman. He nodded quickly at Richie, “Yeah, it’ll be fine, Rich.” The group went through the security check point and got wrist bands. They all convened at the closest booth that sold beer and after being served made plans for a meet-up spot in case they got separated. Who were they kidding, _if_ they got separated. The crowd was so large and electric that it swelled and bobbed like a breathing entity. Richie had been to similar shows and knew full well that everyone was going to get lost that night.

Beverly sidled up to him and screamed into his ear. _“WANNA SMOKE POT?”_  The music was so loud that he just popped up his thumb. He gripped Eddie’s hand and led them through to a secluded spot off on the side of the field where the grass was tall.

Ben looked around, “Wait did we already lose people? Where’s Stan and Bill?” He shouted it and Richie was able to read his lips, a skill he’d picked up through practice: concerts were loud.

“Casualties of war, Benny. It’s a fucking jungle out there,” Richie said, moving his lips in an exaggerated way so they were easily readable. Bev pulled a joint out of her bra and sparked it. Mike and Eddie both turned down the weed and Richie supposed that was to be expected. When the joint came his way he took a few sip-like pulls and was glad that he’d asked Bill to step up as the driver this time. He and Eddie were happy and comfortable so he wasn't worried about having a little beer and getting blazed. They’d come a long way in a short time, having only known each other for a little over a month, but Richie wouldn't be exaggerating if he used the l-word to describe the way he felt about his boyfriend.

_Boyfriend. We haven’t said that word yet, but it’s true isn't it? Does Eddie think that about us? Oh fuck. I’m stoned._

Richie felt something pulling on the hem of his teeshirt and looked down. Eddie’s hand clutched onto him. His eyes were big and they scanned around at the scene spread before them. Richie put one hand gently around Eddie’s head and spoke into his ear. “You sure you’re okay? I know this is probably overwhelming for you.”

Eddie stood on his tiptoes and brought his mouth close to Richie’s ear. “I’ll let you know if I’m _not_ okay, how about that. Stop worrying and have fun.”

Richie pecked him quickly on the lips and turned his attention back to the group. “What the fuck, where’d Bev and Ben go?”

Mike pointed across at the couple, who had moved closer to the crowd surrounding the stage. They were going to be swallowed up by the surge of people, never to be heard from again.

“So it begins,” Richie said to himself. He took Eddie’s hand and walked closer to where he’d seen Bev and Ben disappear, leaving Mike and Greta in the dust. He would have felt bad about it but at least this time everyone had a partner to pair off with. There was a break in the music as the stage was prepared for another band to perform. The crowd started scattering: people wanted to get themselves to the refreshment booths or the port-a-potties before the music started back up. Eddie hugged onto him at the waist and it felt like he was trying to bore his little body right through Richie’s core. People pushed past them, and they were being grazed involuntarily by the sides of sweaty arms. Richie got shoulder checked accidentally by a dude that was actually taller than he was and he felt Eddie squeeze tighter at the impact.

Eddie released his grip on Richie and pulled out his inhaler and shook it. He threw Richie a sad little defeated look and took two gasping sucks on the mist, keeping the aqua piece of plastic in his hand afterwards. That wasn't a good sign. Richie noticed that the crowd had cleared a bit closer up to the stage and he could see Bev, so he pulled Eddie along with him to get to the front.

“Hey lady, do you know who the next band is?” Bev looked surprised to see them.

“Hey! I thought we wouldn't see you guys again until the end of the show. Um, I’m not sure, but we have a great spot now!” Richie concurred, but looking down at Eddie he knew that it wasn't going to be a great spot for him. Once the band started playing, the crowd would rush back and they’d get swamped. Richie thought back to times when he’d woken up the day after a show with his forearms completely sore from pressing his arms too hard against the barrier. 

He leaned down to Eddie, “Hey, I don’t think you’re going to have too much fun up here. It’s gonna get pretty crazy in a few minutes. And you should put your inhaler away, you’re going to drop it and then we’re fucked.”

Eddie looked embarrassed. “I have to pee. But I don’t want to go into the port-a-potty. I didn't know there wouldn't be bathrooms.”

Richie giggled at him. “Eddie, we’re in the middle of a field. What the fuck did you think they’d have to piss into?”

He caught Bev by the arm and told her that they’d be back in a few minutes and took Eddie over where they’d smoked, into the tall weeds. “You can piss right here.”

Eddie widened his eyes and whisper shouted, “I can’t do that. Someone might see me. And it’s _outside_.”

“You've never pissed outside before?” Richie knew it was a stupid question.

“No. And of course, _you_ have, I’m sure.”

Richie nodded. “Yeah. Camping, hanging out in the woods, fuck, just out in the backyard onto snow… I mean come on Spaghetti Man, what’s the big deal. No one’s looking.”

Eddie snuck a look around. They were in a darkened area surrounded by foliage. “I’m just going to hold it. And I’ll probably end up getting a bladder infection because of it. Goddammit.”

“Just take your dick out and piss. Oh for fuck’s sake, okay here, watch.” Richie unzipped his fly and whipped it out. Eddie put his hand over his mouth and tried to avert his eyes, but Richie could tell that he was staring right at it. He finished up, shook it and put it away. “See, easy peasy.”

“You can’t wash your hands. _I_ can’t wash my hands.” Eddie groped for his inhaler again. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I've gotten a lot better about germs and anxiety and stuff, I used to be a total basket case when I was a kid…” _gasp-hiss_ “…but something always has to happen to remind me that I’m still the same way.”

“If it makes you feel any better, urine is sterile,” Richie said. Behind them, they heard the music start back up.

 It took an additional ten minutes of convincing and three hits off his inhaler, but Eddie eventually pissed on the ground. Richie called him “pee hands” for the rest of the night, earning himself a couple of tiny yet forceful punches in his side. They didn't attempt to make their way back up front, and stuck near the back where people were more mellow and the crowd was spaced out. Both of them drank more than a few beers. At the end of the night they met up with the others in the spot they’d chosen upon entry, but Mike and Greta didn't show up. Curfew rapidly approached.

_Too bad Mikey, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few._

Bill’s van was still parked in the same place when the group made its way back. Everyone was buzzed and excited and spoke entirely too loud. Richie heard a wolf-whistle come from one of his friends and looked up to see Mike and Greta full making out leaned up against the van. Bev’s drunk face was horrified, “Eww! I’d say get a room, but just, NO.” They broke apart, embarrassed, and the group piled into the van. Everyone was exhausted. Eddie laid his head down in Richie’s lap and stretched himself out across the backseat. 

Richie combed his fingers through Eddie’s hair. “How was your first concert, Eddie Spaghetti?”

“Scary and loud and gross and nerve-wracking and fun,” He replied sleepily. “And I saw your dick.”

Bev’s head popped up from the seat in front of them. “You saw his dick?!”

Eddie groaned, “Fuck, people can hear me,” and turned himself around to face his head towards Richie’s midsection.

Richie waved his hand at Bev. “He saw it limp, so he isn't impressed yet. Give him time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to come up with a laundry list of fake bands for this show, but this sort of music is the type of concert I envision them going to, if you're into putting yourself into the vibe:
> 
> Less Than Jake  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-JWO2PrIbHE
> 
> No Use for a Name  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nsuI5GCf7Pg
> 
> NOfx  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bul0qZUBWmQ&index=4&list=PL163DCC5190E1EAB7


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the dirtiest thing I've ever written, blushblushblush

It was a hazy, sticky day and Richie sat eating lunch with Eddie in Bev’s smoking spot. He prayed for a breeze to blow through, even a hot gust from the exhaust of a ride would've been better than the muggy stillness of the humid August weather. “Wanna have half of my churro, Eddie Spaghetti?”  

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie said absently as he half-heartedly poked at his own food.

Richie pretended like Eddie’s words gravely injured him and placed his hand over his heart as he spoke. “ _Edward_. I thought we were beyond all that by now.”

“Sorry,” Eddie shook his head quickly, “I’m just really tense because of everything that’s going on. I’m not in the mood for your silly shit.” Richie grinned when Eddie said _‘everything that’s going on.’_ The little guy spoke as though he were referring to something huge -a matter of life and death- but Richie knew better.

“Eds, you cleaned down the whole inside of the control booth with disinfectant, you have your own room, and you've been avoiding everyone… you aren't going to catch it.” A cold was making its way through the dorm and people were dropping like flies. Ben and Mike were the first of their friends to come down with it, and both of them passed the virus to their respective love interests before anyone could blink. The illness wasn't isolated to their friend-group alone; the company had a mild epidemic on their hands.

It was the second day that Bev was out sick. The park was understaffed so the healthy employees worked longer shifts and filled-in on jobs they normally wouldn't have to do. Richie'd been an angel since he received his written warning, and he graciously volunteered to be a replacement on the ferris wheel. He was happy to do it: not only for a break in the monotony that was his own job, but for the chance to hang with Eddie. The latter quickly proved to be more stressful than fun because poor Eddie existed in a perpetual state of germ-phobia induced panic.

Eddie spoke so quickly he sounded like he was doing an impression of an auctioneer. “Yeah, maybe I’m safe sleeping in my own room but you’re in the same room as Stan. It’s basically a petri dish in there by now so there’s no way in hell I’m taking a bite of your stupid churro. I can’t stop thinking about it, and now I have to train you and my brain is so shot that I’m going to end up getting my head smacked by the ride again…” He trailed off and fumbled in his fanny pack for his inhaler, shaking it. Richie didn't want push him over the edge, but Bev had shared a drink and multiple cigarettes with him in the days leading up to her getting sick, and he and Eddie had kissed since then. As far as Richie knew, if he was going to get sick the damage had already been done.

“Eddie, you know that Stan has been shacking up with Bill most of the time now. It’s like fucking _musical rooms_ with these people. I didn't even know he was sick until I bought lunch and he wasn't there to roll his eyes at me. So if you’re freaking out over the idea of me breathing in a bunch of germs while I sleep…” Richie paused when he heard the _gasp-hiss_ and fiddled with his glasses as he looked over at Eddie, ‘…just remember that isn't happening. And also try to remember that it’s a _cold_ and not leprosy. Even if you catch it you’re probably going to pull through.”

“I’m aware of that, Richie. I've tried telling myself that. It doesn't make it any less scary to me.”

Richie felt guilty for nagging him about it. He knew what it was like to be afraid of something and have little control over it. But he also knew that facing fears was one of the best ways to conquer them. “I think we’ll both be fine, kid. Who gets sick in the summer anyway? It’s so fucking hot out.”

“Are you stupid? Germs don’t care what time of year it is.” Eddie pushed his barely eaten food aside. “I can’t eat this, someone could have been coughing all over it.”

“Yeah. They could have. Someone could have also jerked off all over my churro. It doesn't make it any less delicious.”

Eddie made an exaggerated gagging sound and stood up. “I hate you.” He disappeared through the hole in the fence and Richie sighed, watching him go.

* * *

The dinner rush was more of a crawl that night. They sat at their regular table, but Bill was the only one of their friends who joined them. Richie glanced around at the large room that normally vibrated with a din created by a few dozen simultaneous conversations. What replaced the ruckus was a scattered handful of subdued people eating in relative silence. Everyone seemed to be feeling the effects of being over-extended.

“S-so how was it today for you guys? It was a madhouse at the pizza st-stand without Stan.”

Eddie rubbed his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept all week. “It was definitely busier than usual. I just can’t wait for all of this to be over with.” His voice was filled with defeat and Richie wanted so badly to de-stress him. He placed his hand in between Eddie’s shoulder blades and rubbed in a circle. Eddie visibly responded, elongating his neck to drop it down closer to his chest. Richie kneaded up his spine and stopped to massage at the top vertebrae. Tipping his head to the side, Eddie smiled over at him. It was a weak but grateful smile, and Richie leaned down to give him a kiss, but Eddie pulled back like he’d been burned.

“You don’t want to kiss me, Eds? Why, because all six people in the cafeteria will see?” Richie pulled his hand back and laid it in his lap.

Eddie raised his head back up and replied quietly, “No, you know I don't care about that... It's because you might already be infected.”

Richie snickered and grinned at Bill. “ _Infected._ Big Bill, did we just wander into a zombie movie?”

Bill shrugged. “I mean, he s-seems like he’s being more dramatic than _Night of the Living Dead._ Y-you guys ever see _Outbreak_? Or _The Stand_?”

Eddie’s face grew a little paler, which made the dark circles under his eyes stand out. He shook his head and said “I can’t watch those kind of movies.”

“Spaghetti, the best way to get over fears is exposure, so you _should_ be watching those kind of movies. _Ooh_! Or playing candy-striper all up and down the dorm hallways. I’d actually pay good money to see you wear one of those uniforms.” For the second time that day, Eddie stood and gathered up his barely eaten food, fleeing Richie and his stupid comments. Richie didn't bother to turn to watch him leave.

* * *

Richie swung by Ben’s room to drop dinner off to Beverly. She was curled up on Eddie’s old bed, pale and limp, but remained lovely. And feisty. “Greta is such a whiner, dude. I’m glad Eddie got his own room so we have this extra bed in here. I couldn't take another second in there with her.”

“Where’s Benny? Is he already feeling better?” Richie was seated cross-legged at the edge of Beverly’s bed, thumbing through one of Ben’s architecture textbooks.

“He woke up feeling better _-ish_ today and they have him working the late shift. They’re really hard-up for people at this point. He’s working the roller coaster and I’m pretty sure he has no fucking clue what he’s doing. Someone’s gonna die tonight.” Her scratchy voice lacked any remorse.

“I'll pray for them," Richie said dryly. "So if Ben’s illness time-line is anything to go by, you should be back to fighting shape in two days. It can’t come soon enough for me.” Richie reached out and lobbed the book back over onto Ben’s bed.

Bev sucked her teeth, making a little _tsk_ noise. “Oh no, are you and Eddie already driving each other nuts? Couples shouldn't work in close quarters like that.”

Richie sighed, laying on his back. "He’s just super paranoid about either of us getting sick and won’t stop spazzing about it. The weirder he acts about it, the more I want to fuck with him.” Richie popped up on his elbow to face Bev. “And by the way, if he ever allows you to be in his presence again, don’t mention that I came to see you while you were contagious or he might never speak to me again. I just feel like I keep taking a few steps towards him and he meets me where I’m at, and then he takes a couple steps back… it’s so frustrating.”

“But you guys have, like… y’know. Done stuff by now right?” She rolled her eyes, “I mean, done more than crotch rubbing in a car.”

They _had_ done stuff. New fun stuff. The night after the concert Eddie had been brave, buzzed, and ballsy and they got more familiar with their hands, which Richie was stoked over. He’d envisioned that the forward progression would continue at a natural pace in the days that followed, but the illness outbreak had shut all his hopes down. “Yeah, we've definitely done some new things and they were fucking great. But now I’m going to be waiting for him to give me an all clear before he even lets me kiss him. Over a fucking cold that I don’t even have.”

Beverly blew her nose. “Well if you keep coming in here you’re going to end up catching it for sure. You know you won’t see him for a week if that happens, and we’re all going to be out of here before you know it.”

_Barely two weeks left. Saying goodbye to everyone is going to be so fucking sad._

* * *

Bev was correct as she usually was. Richie woke up the following morning with a sore throat and a stuffy nose. He wasn't the type to be a big baby about being sick, and would normally have just gone into work, but Judith called a mini meeting at the beginning of the week. She urged everyone to stay in if they felt ill to prevent spreading the cold to the entire staff. He went downstairs to the phones to call-in with the main office and on the way back up to his room he swiped a roll of toilet paper from the bathroom to have something to blow his nose.

He tried to picture Eddie’s terrified face when Judith told him _'Richie called in sick'_ and laughed to himself. The kid was probably having a heart attack over it, and he didn't even feel that sick, just congested and his limbs were a little heavy. He liked having a day off, and the only real draw-back to being forced into holing himself up in his room was the boredom. They didn't have a TV, so Richie’s choices were either listen to music, read, or sleep. He chose the quietest option and slept lightly, waking himself up coughing a couple times.

There was a quiet rapping on the door and Richie startled awake. He sat up a little and reached for his glasses. “Enter.”

The door opened and Eddie stood in the doorway in his uniform, looking like the spitting image of Bambi poised to run away from the sound of a rifle shot. He lingered in the hallway and held a small paper bag in one hand and a plastic shopping bag in the other. “So how sick are you?”

Richie cleared his throat and sniffled. “Hey Eds. I dunno, regular-sick? I really didn't expect to see you for a few days. You gonna be able to step into the den of disease, or you planning on chucking whatever you brought me from the free-throw line?” It was the first time he’d spoken since the early morning and it irritated his throat. He broke off coughing, deflecting it into his elbow.

“Oh God, you sound _terrible_.”

“Always the master of etiquette, Spaghetti Head. It sounds worse than it feels, I swear.” Eddie stepped through the door and shut it with his hip. He walked the length of the room with the slow, pained gait of a man about to go before a firing squad.

"I went to the diner to get you soup,” he said, holding up the paper bag before he placed it on Richie’s bedside table. It looked like it hurt him a little to do so, but he sat down on the edge of the bed, and began rifling through the plastic bag. He placed the contents on the table next to the soup: cold medicine, cough drops, tissues, a couple magazines, bottled water, orange juice and some candy that Richie liked.

Richie was blown away by the display of thoughtfulness. “Aww, _Eddie_. You didn't have to do all this. I was just gonna sleep for three days and hope for the best.” Richie furrowed his brow and leaned forward to look at his clock. “Wait a minute, what time is it? Did you blow off work to do this?”

Eddie smiled sheepishly. “It’s a little after one. When you didn't show up I told Judith I was starting to feel sick so I could leave. I couldn't let you just be here all day without medicine or something to drink. You obviously need someone to take care of you properly if you planned to just sleep it off.”

“Eddie, do you know how cute it is that you came here to check on me when I know that it’s probably killing you inside? You’re such a little fucking sweetie _._ ” Richie slid his hand down and raked his fingers over Eddie’s knee.

One corner of Eddie’s mouth turned up, but he didn't reply. He placed a soft, cool hand on Richie’s forehead and clucked his tongue at the heat he found there. Richie sighed at the touch and closed his eyes. He felt Eddie’s small hand trace down the side of his face and stop to rest on his warm neck, and his chest swelled over Eddie’s sweet and downright motherly administrations. Richie also appreciated that Eddie was facing something he found terrifying to be there for him; he didn't let fear get in the way of acting out of concern for his man.

_He can be so brave when he needs to be. Oh fuck, not now, let’s see how brave you really are, buddy._

 Richie felt a sneeze coming on, and took Eddie’s hand to remove it from his neck. He pulled his shirt up over his face so just his eyes were showing and sneezed twice into it, quickly muttering “Sorry.”

Eddie scrunched his face up into a wince and his eyes were shut tight but he said, “Bless you. You don’t have to apologize.” He peeked at Richie with one eye. “Did you take any medicine today?”

Richie shook his head and sniffled as he sat up all the way. Eddie reached for the medicine he brought and poured a dose into the little cup. He handed it over to Richie along with a bottle of water as a chaser. “This should help you feel better. Liquid tastes gross but it works faster. I got the good kind, the stuff they hide behind the counter because people make meth out of it.” Richie swallowed it and looked at Eddie fondly as he lay back down on his side.

Eddie ran his hand through his hair self-consciously. “What?”

Richie closed his eyes and snaked his fingers out, tickling his nails along the soft baby hairs on Eddie’s calf. “You've been so freaked out about this stuff all week. The fact that you’re here, doing this… You’re just brave and cute and surprising. I want to kiss the shit out of you, but I’m guessing you’re not _that_ brave.”

He continued to run his fingers along Eddie’s leg, creeping up near his thighs. He was trying to illicit a specific response and knew he was on the right track when he heard, “Richie, don’t do that.”

Richie opened his eyes and put on a questioning, pouty face that said _whatever-are-you-talking-about-dear?_ “Don’t do what?”

“You know Goddamn well what I mean.” He motioned towards Richie’s gropey hand. “Don't  _start_ something when we can't _..._ You’re right, okay, I’m _not_ letting you kiss me, so it’s pointless.”

“You won’t let me kiss you on the _mouth_ , but there’s somewhere else I can kiss you.” Eddie blushed hard and looked a little scandalized, but there was something else in his eyes that Richie caught. That look, the _Eddie-is-begging-for-it_ look.

“You mean you want to like... do _that_? But you’re sick. You should be resting,” he said, and his voice was as soft and innocent as his eyes were wide. Richie swore that he saw pornos that started this way and took a mental picture for future spanking material.

“Spaghetti, you should hear yourself, are you actually trying to deter me with that shit?” He put on a higher-pitched voice, “ _‘No, officer, I didn't know I was speeding. Wow, that’s a big knight stick…’”_

Eddie break into a giggle-fit, surprising Richie. He felt like he hadn't heard that sound in a whole week. “You’re totally right. Jesus,” Eddie moaned as he sheepishly rubbed his hand against the back of his neck.

“Well look, if you’re really concerned about my health,” Richie said as he got up from the bed and clicked the lock, “the cure is inside your pants.” He turned around and stood with his back to to door. “I’m telling you that I have an overwhelming urge to blow you, right now. If you don’t want me to, I won’t.” He walked back over slowly and nudged Eddie’s leg with his knee. “Lay that way,” he said, motioning for Eddie to lay down so that his butt was lined up with the edge of the bed.

Eddie did as he was told and lay staring at the ceiling. “I do want you to,” he said quietly.

Richie grinned at him. “Who wouldn't?”

He set to work removing the little guy’s shoes and socks for him, to which Eddie cocked his head, confused. “Just in case,” Richie said and he could tell that it didn't answer any questions that Eddie had about it. He got down on his knees on the floor and grabbed Eddie by the thighs to repositioned him so that he was flush with the edge of the bed. Richie put his face close to the sensitive skin behind Eddie’s knee and ran his lower lip over it, slowly creeping his way up the inner thigh. Eddie was breathing heavily through his nose and made a little humming sound when Richie got close to the hem of his shorts. He slid his fingers up the swishy material towards Eddie’s waist and hooked them around the waistband, grazing them along Eddie’s warm belly. He pulled the shorts down and Eddie lifted his butt up to help him get them off.

“Can we leave my underwear on?” Eddie whispered.

Richie tossed the shorts on the floor, and lightly ran his fingers over the outline of Eddie’s hard dick through his briefs. It bobbed and twitched at him. Richie knew he was the first person that had ever been allowed this far with Eddie and took a second to appreciate that. “Sure Eds, if you want to leave them on that’s fine.” He reached his warm hand into the hole in the front of Eddie’s underwear and pulled out his cock. It wasn't huge, but it was cute and shiny and proportional to the rest of Eddie. Richie left his glasses on only because he knew he’d want to see everything that happened.

He started out slowly, running his tongue all the way up the length and twisting it around the head, tasting the precum dripping there, and the noises he was rewarded with were driving him crazy. Eddie let out little whimpers and squeaky whines that sounded just barely restrained. Richie took Eddie fully into his mouth. He plunged his head up and down slowly and gradually increased his speed, flicking his tongue at the sensitive spots near the head each time he came up. He felt Eddie's legs trembling so he took his mouth away and used his hand for a minute to get a full view. Eddie's midsection was trembling as he laid with his eyes closed and his hands were limply raised up near his face in loose fists.

Richie couldn't help it. “That day, Eddie Spaghetti learned that oral sex was pretty fun, and he felt silly for putting it off for so long.”

“ _Shut up,”_ Eddie growl-whispered without opening his eyes, “You talk a lot less with my dick in your mouth.”

Richie chuckled, but returned his mouth to Eddie’s cock, moving it and his hand in the same motion: up and down with a twist towards the tip. Eddie began rocking his lower-half in a restrained way and it was the most polite little set of gyrations that Richie’d ever seen or felt. It seemed like Eddie would have loved to just thrust deep into his throat and fuck his face but held himself back. It was super hot and Richie took it as a hint and deepened his movements.

Eddie started gasping in soft, hitching breaths and placed one of his feet against Richie’s shoulder. “Richie. Richie-Richie… Oh my _God_..” Richie knew what that meant and slowed down again, removing his mouth. He replaced the pressure of his full hand with the light but firm grip of his looped index finger and thumb.

He palmed Eddie’s balls through the briefs and stroked his dick lightly, teasing him,  “Are you going to cum soon, Eddie? Do you want to?”

Eddie whined and squirmed his body, and his arms slapped down with his palms flat against the bed. “Yes. I want to cum.”

Richie set back to work and continued in the same manner, moving his hand and mouth in one coordinated motion, and he gradually quickened his pace. Eddie’s breath was coming in shuddery moans until he softly cried out without warning. The bed shook as he bucked his hips, and Richie felt warm sweetness spilling into his mouth. He slowed down his movements to match the spasms of Eddie’s dick and swallowed the load, wiping the excess on his sweat pants.

Eddie lay there panting with his eyes shut and his sweet face was flushed and unfettered. All the stress that plagued him for the past several days, all the fear and anxiety was wiped away. Richie crashed himself down onto the bed, laying the same direction as Eddie with his long legs hanging over the side. He was rock hard and moaned a little as he adjusted himself, pressing his dick against his inner thigh.

“Are you okay?” Eddie’s voice was breathy and soft.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just have a sudden case of _hard-dick-itis._ My nose isn't stuffed up anymore. I don’t know if it’s from the medicine or from _Dr. K’s magical elixir._ ” Eddie scooted himself over and snuggled into Richie’s side. “Hey, watch it. I’m a disease factory,” Richie said, wrapping Eddie up in his arms.

“Hmm," Eddie breathed, "Do you believe that I actually don’t care right now? I might regret it later.”

"I believe it, kid. It's hard to give a shit about anything after a fucking world-class BJ. You just popped your cherry with an artist. Next time you should take your underwear off, though. I have other moves." Richie felt soft wetness rubbing against his neck and closed his eyes as it moved up his jawline. Hot breath was up by his ear and Eddie whispered, _“I want to taste you, too.”_

“ _Alriiiight_ ,” Richie said as he shimmied out of his sweatpants, “I should be sick every single day of my life.”


	11. Chapter 11

“Richie… Richie, wake up.”

“Mmmggh. No.”

He heard Eddie sigh, felt him struggle a little, felt a soft cheek and nose knock against his own face. “Come on asshole, get up. I’m going to be late for work.”

Richie kept his eyes shut tight. “You want me to cum on your asshole? What a dirty birdy you are, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.”

“Sorry to break it to you but that was a response,” Richie said as he opened his eyes. He had one arm and one leg draped over Eddie, who was further cocooned by a blanket. “Oh man, are you trapped, Eds? That’s the saddest thing I ever heard,” he said as he pushed his other arm and leg underneath Eddie’s body to hook them together and fully enclose him. He pressed his face into Eddie’s neck and produced loud snoring sounds.Eddie couldn't stop himself from giggling but he sounded pissed. “Richie, are you fucking kidding me? Cut it out!”

“Can’t hear you. Sleeping,” Richie said with his lips against Eddie’s throat, his voice muffled.

The end of the season edged closer and there weren't that many working days left. Eddie ended up catching the cold he dreaded so much but was surprisingly calm about it when the first symptoms appeared. He explained it to Richie as best as he could: the sheer prospect of his body being invaded by germs was the scary part. Once the deed was done it wasn't a big deal and it was almost comfortable for him to be sick. Richie knew that Mrs. K was the one who made the kid that way, and he hated her on Eddie’s behalf. The pair spent several days holed up in Eddie’s room, snuggling and taking care of each other. They pretended to be sick a couple days beyond the point they both felt better and got a mini-vacation out of it.

Eddie let out an exasperated sigh. “I actually want to go to work, today. Don’t you? I’m going stir-crazy in here.”

Richie didn't want him go to work. He didn't want either of them to go anywhere. What he really wanted was the ability to suspend time. They both avoided the topics that wouldn't leave Richie’s brain: _What’s going to happen when we are living an hour away from one another? How’s it going to be when I can’t just walk over to your room and hang out?_ Richie didn't have the best track record when it came to relationships. He tended to disengage emotionally long before the prospect of getting hurt even came up. He knew he was already in too deep with Eddie for it to end without tears, and long distance relationships were just ticking time-bombs as far as he was concerned.

He unwrapped his arms from around the little guy, allowing him to get up. “About time,” Eddie said as he scurried off the bed.,/p>

Richie watched his blurry form as he collected his toiletries and clothes. “Hey Eds, how are you getting back to school?”

Eddie’s head was inside his closet as he answered, “Uh, my mom is probably going to come pick me up I guess. She dropped me off here, so-”

“‘ _You’re a virgin, who can’t drive,’”_ Richie interrupted in his best New Jersey accent.

He snickered and replied with a passable Cher Horowitz impression. _“’That was way harsh, Tai.’”_

“Nice reference catch, Eds... I’m really gonna miss this,” Richie said in spite of himself, letting loose with what he’d been thinking for the past week.

Eddie stopped what he was doing and faced Richie. “Why do you have to say it like that?”

“Say it like what?”

“Like we’re never going to see each other again,” Eddie said and he put his stuff down on the desk.

Richie sat up, reaching for his glasses. He back-tracked because he wished he hadn't said it. “Fuck, I didn't mean it that way. I just meant I’ll miss being there when you wake up in the morning to make you late and drive you nuts. That’ll be a rare occurrence soon...  And I’m shit on the phone, Eds. You’d think with my big stupid mouth I’d have a lot to say, but…” Richie trailed off and he didn't know what else he could add to soften it. He _was_ scared that they wouldn't see each other again, but he didn't want to say it out loud.  He worried that the distance would be too much for both of them to deal with and there would be a gradual fade out of communication until it was just over, like they never even knew each other.

Eddie walked back over to the bed, sat down on the edge and took Richie’s hand. His big eyes grazed across Richie’s whole face before he spoke. “Am I your boyfriend?”

Richie was a little taken aback by the confidently spoken bold question but tried not to let it show in his face. He nodded and began kneading Eddie’s hand. His voice was gentle as he said, “Yeah, you are.”

“So, It doesn't matter if you’re bad at talking on the phone. All that really matters is that we don’t go into this thinking it’s already doomed. I know I get anxious about a lot of things, but you aren't one of them. Well at least not anymore.” He looked over at the clock and groaned. “Fuck. I’m going to be so late.”

Richie brought Eddie’s hand up to his mouth and planted a loud, smacking kiss on it as he followed Eddie’s gaze to the clock. “Wait a minute Eds, are you serious? it’s only 10:40. Almost everyone is working second shift this week. I could still be sleeping right now.” A few positives came out of the Monster Funworld Plague of ’97. Management realized that less people were required for the early shift and had adjusted schedules accordingly.

“I totally forgot,” Eddie said, shaking his head at himself, “We don’t have to leave for hours.” A slow, flirtatious smile spilled over his face. “Do you want to…” He rolled his eyes and put his hand over them, squeezing them shut as he said, “take a shower with me?”

Richie raised both eyebrows and admired Eddie’s bashfully down turned face. He realized something that moment that he hadn't been sure of before: when it came to their relationship, Eddie was all in. At least if everything did get totally fucked up when they moved back home he could count on the fact that they’d be equally devastated. It was comforting in a weird way. He grinned and danced his fingers along Eddie’s palm and up his forearm. “My, my, my, Aren't we just bold and spicy today? Fucking _picante._ ”

Eddie’s doe eyes went from sultry to serious and flashed him a warning.“But we have to be quiet in there, don’t get any bright ideas.”

“Well, no shit, Eds. And you don’t want shower sex to be your first time anyway. It’s not as fun and fancy-free as people make it seem in movies. Trust me. Plus our height difference would make it fucking impossible.”

* * *

The dorm bathroom had four small single shower stalls with long curtains that went down to the floor. Each stall had a private changing space with a little bench and hooks to hang clothing and towels. Richie took off his shirt and wondered how many other people had hooked up there as Eddie adjusted the water. Showering with someone always seemed like a great idea, at least in theory. Wetness, nakedness, and proximity were all nice things and being with someone in a place where they were normally solitary revealed interesting intimate details Richie wouldn't otherwise be privy to.

But then there were the realities to deal with. Like the fact that Eddie argued about the water temperature right off the bat, before Richie even got rewarded with the sight of his naked body. “Don’t you know that it’s bad for your skin to take such hot showers?” Richie didn't care about that, he liked it so hot that his body released steam and his legs resembled lobsters after he stepped out. Eddie preferred the water to be slightly above body temperature. Luke warm might as well have been ice-cold in Richie's opinion.

Richie got flicked in the neck for talking too loud and Eddie pantomimed _hush-up_ and also _I’ll kill you,_ running a slim finger across his own neck _._ They kept their voices down and tried not to speak much at all. Getting caught showering together was leagues beyond what the _No Fraternizing_ rule meant. A much as Richie’d complained about the job, he could see himself coming back to work another summer, but that would be out of the question if he got kicked out. 

Eddie dilly-dallied while taking off his clothes in the small changing space, so Richie stepped into the stall without him and stood under the water, wetting his hair. He adjusted the faucet slightly to make it a fraction hotter and let it run down over his face. He heard the plastic curtain open and whispered “This is freezing, Eds.”

“It’s a perfectly healthy temperature,” Eddie hissed back. Richie wiped water out of his eyes and looked at Eddie. It was the first time he got to see all of him and he wished he’d had the good sense to put in his contacts first. Eddie was small but not as skinny as he appeared to be in clothes. His chest and thighs were both solid. His biceps were lightly muscled and he had soft hairs trailing down his belly. Richie was about to make fun of his little shower shoes when Eddie stepped forward to lock their mouths together and pressed his body tight against the front of Richie’s.

_Okay fine, showering together is fucking great. Never mind._

Chest to chest, skin on skin, as sort-of-warm water spilled down over them, Richie firmly dragged his hands down Eddie’s shoulders and over his back as they kissed, cupping his ass and squeezing it. He _felt_ his nakedness rather than saw it, and Eddie’s dick grew against his thigh. Richie spun them around so Eddie was fully under the water. That was a mistake because he immediately broke out in goosebumps from the absence of the stream and he stopped kissing Eddie because his teeth chattered involuntarily. Richie counted another strike against fun, sexy-time showering: someone always ended up cold.

 _Fuck this, if I’m cold you’re cold_.

 He pulled Eddie out from under the water and directed them over to the wall of the shower furthest from the nozzle. Eddie let out a little yelp as his back touched the chilly tiles. “Keep it down,” Richie whispered into his ear before kissing it open-mouthed, making Eddie gasp. Richie spun him around again, and Eddie kept his fingertips against the wall and rubbed his ass against Richie's front, tipped his head up and back so they could kiss. Richie marveled at the fact that Eddie managed to be both cute and hot at the same time as he snaked his hands down to rest on the little guys hips.

He regretted leaving the water and retreated, backing up until he was under the stream again and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m so cold, kid, I can’t handle it. This water is bullshit,” he whispered as he cranked up the hot faucet a little more. Eddie seemed nonplussed by the chill of being outside the water. He reached into his shower caddy for a little mitt made out of terry-cloth and a bar of soap. He came forward to wet them and then began sudsing up his chest and shoulders. He watched Richie watch him for a minute, and then reached out to use the mitt on Richie’s stomach. His cloth covered hand slid down and down until he met Richie’s penis which was only partially erect. “Sorry, my chubby ran away. He doesn't like the cold,” he whispered in a shuddery voice.

Eddie chucked the soap back into the plastic container. “I think I can help with that,” he whispered as his hand gripped Richie’s cock and jerked in little firm pumps. The material was rough yet slippery and the friction brought him back to full-mast almost immediately. Richie closed his eyes. “Oh _fuck_ ,” he said in a normal speaking voice and Eddie’s free hand came up and covered his mouth while the other hand kept stroking him. Richie panted against Eddie’s hand and grazed his teeth over it gently. He lost himself in the pressure of his mounting orgasm and pictured Eddie’s mouth on him. He could see Eddie back in his room, when he shyly admitted that he’d never given a blow job before and that he hoped it was good. He saw him in an alley wearing a dark teeshirt and leaned up against a brick wall, flirty and glowing, whispering dirty things. Richie knew he was going to cum soon, and _hard_ and he hoped like fuck he didn't forget himself and make noise. He brought his hand up to cover Eddie’s over his mouth and whispered, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” against it before he exploded into the mitt. When he was finished, Eddie kissed him quickly, put his hands on Richie’s waist and shoved him out of the water.

Richie stood there freezing again, watching Eddie as he washed out the cloth with soap and tossed it aside. He grabbed for his shampoo and went about his business like nothing had happened. When he saw Richie watching him, he whispered “What? I still need to get ready to go to work today.” 

Richie shivered and whispered, “I feel slightly used, but I don’t think I mind.” He crowded Eddie under the spray, trying to push him out of the way so he could get the full blast of water. “Move over. Y'know, I was kinda worried that the soap was gonna burn my dickhole, but it didn't.”

Eddie was rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. “ _Richie stop pushing me!”,_ He whispered through clenched teeth before continuing softly, “It’s really mild baby soap for eczema, it’s meant to not burn anything. Not that I _have_ eczema, but my mom-”

 “Oh God damn Eds, so sexy. Tell me more about skin conditions and your mom during my post-orgasm happy time. Did she teach you that wash-cloth hand job technique?”

Eddie looked disgusted. “I didn't think I could actually love someone and hate them at the same time. I thought that was just some stupid film trope.”

Richie was all smiles. “You love me?” Eddie’s mouth snapped shut as he realized what he’d said.

“I love you, too. Now get the fuck out of the way, I need to make the water hotter.”

* * *

 

On the last official operational day of the season Richie gave up on pretending to work right after lunch. In the last few moments of his shift he stood with his chest draped over Ben’s booth as he half-heartedly tossed darts at the board, killing time until they were allowed to leave for the day. “So how are you and Bev dealing with the whole _we’re-going-back-to-different-schools-and-everything-is-probably-going-to-turn-to-shit_ thing?”

Ben was blowing up balloons with a pump. “We’re _not_ dealing with it? Whenever I try to talk about it she changes the subject. She seems like she’s unfazed by the idea and it pretty much sucks. You and Eddie are lucky that your schools are relatively close together.” Both Ben and Bev were going to school in New York, but the distance between upstate and the city may as well have been a million miles. Ben watched as Richie sank a dart directly into the center of a balloon and winced as it popped. “Do you really have to do that? I have to replace those,” he said, holding up the pump in his hands.

Richie stopped throwing darts. “Benny, it’s over. You don’t have to do shit if you don’t want to. Those balloons are some other asshole’s problem next season.”

Ben narrowed his eyes and put the pump down. “Holy crap, you’re right.”

“Of course I am. What time is it? I just want to get the fuck out of here already.” Richie wasn't sure if he meant _for the day_ or for good. He was going to miss everyone a lot, especially Eddie, and the sooner he resumed his regular life, the sooner he’d get over it. Ben looked at his watch. “9:50. You can start shutting down. And I think everyone around here feels the same way today, Rich.”

He headed back over to his booth to close it up and found Beverly sitting in his chair, hunched down so she wasn't easily seen from a distance. Richie grinned at her, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m hiding from Ben,” she said in a low voice, “he keeps dwelling on the fact that we’re leaving. Like I get it, it’s sad, but I don’t want to be crying for the rest of the time we’re here.”

Richie joined her behind the booth and sat down on the ground. “How was Eddie Spaghetti today? Does he seem weird to you?”

“He was quiet, I guess. He’s always weird, that’s why you guys go together so well,” she said, sticking out her tongue.

“Hilarious,” Richie said solemnly. He rubbed and twisted his hands together as he asked,“So what’s the over/under of you and Ben staying together?”

Bev scrunched up her face, “Over-under?”

“The _odds_ , the chances. On a scale of one to ten with one being no chance it’ll work and ten being you get married-“

Bev interrupted him. “Four.”

“Fuck. You didn't even think about it.”

She shrugged and got down off the chair to sit next to Richie on the ground. “Yeah, we live too far away. I mean, I’ll try it out. I just don’t think it’ll work. I like him, I’ll miss him, but I’m twenty-one for Christ’s sake… What about you? What’s the whatever you said, over-under of you and Eddie?”

Richie exhaled slowly through his mouth so his lips vibrated. “What I want and what I think will happen might as well be on different planets.”

Bev nodded and crossed her arms over her knees. “Okay, they’re different numbers, then what’s the mean? Or is it the median?”

“Wow, someone failed Stats,” Richie said. She elbowed him in the side. “What’s the fucking average you smart-ass?”

“The _mean,”_ he said pointedly, “is six point five.” 

Beverly started giggling. “Wow, someone’s secretly a math nerd,” she said, mimicking Richie.

“It’s not a secret, baby. My GPA is as solid as my dick.”

Bev ignored the dick comment and nudged him. “Six point five is better than four. I think that if you guys want it to work, it will. You’ll be done with school soon and you can move wherever you want. Don’t throw it away because long distance scares you. You guys are cute together. More importantly, you _fit_ together. It’s obvious to everyone.” She stood up, offering Richie her hands. He pulled himself to his feet and wrapped her up into a hug.

“I’m really gonna miss you, Beverly,” he breathed into her hair.

“Oh _God_ , not you too!” She wiggled in his arms a little bit before she gave in and squeezed him back.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end. I'm sort of proud of this story because it's only my second fic ever. It's been clunky and meandering at times but I had a lot of fun with it, and it's sad to say goodbye to this little AU. Thanks so much to everyone who read, commented, left kudos – you’re all awesome and I appreciate the support from the bottom of my heart.

Richie stood over his bed indiscriminately cramming dirty and clean clothes into his duffel bag. He could've held off packing until the morning, but his brain needed the distraction. As much as he didn't want to be, he was a huge sentimental sap at heart and the impending separation from everyone threatened to hit him hard. He tried not to think about it and gathered toiletries from off the top of his dresser, stopping when he picked up the little makeshift contact lens case that Eddie’d given him on the first night. He sat down on the bed holding it in his hands. So much had changed since then.

The end of season employee picnic was kicking off that evening, and Judith promised them that it would be livelier than the opener. She’d pulled everyone together for a quick team meeting to thank them all for their enthusiasm and hard work. She gave the frosh employees special praise for ‘rising to the occasion,’ which made the gang wince collectively. Each one of them knew they were a far cry from what the company considered ‘model employees.’ Judith was oblivious to that of course, but she may well have said, _“Thanks to all of you for blatantly and repeatedly breaking the rules here. A tip of the hat to Richard, for blowing his boyfriend in the middle of the afternoon during the most stressful time we had this season. Kudos.”_

Nevertheless, they were excited for the chance to have one last fun time together and preemptively decided to stay seven-strong the whole night. Well, _decided_ was a strong word. Bev threatened to murder them if they tried to ruin the last bonding night they’d ever have. She laid the guilt on thick, especially with Stan, who’d checked into _chez-Bill_ midway through the summer and never came back. Richie agreed with her sentiments, but he knew how well those sorts of plans usually worked for them. Everyone always _started out_ gung-ho about hanging as a group, but ultimately, they paired off into couples. If he and Eddie ended up flying solo, he wouldn't mind that much

Shortly after the conversation he had with Beverly on the last day of work, he offered to drive Eddie back to school. That’s when Eddie informed him that the ride he needed would take him home, not to school. He was going to be stuck at his mother’s house for at least a week before move-in day at his dorm, and he’d been driving himself nuts worrying about how strained their reunion would be. Since the incident in the hospital, he’d maintained bare-minimum contact with her. Richie dreaded pulling up to that house and leaving him there alone, but it was just the sad reality of their situation. He wasn't worried for Eddie’s safety, but being nagged and stressed-out for a week right before the start of classes was not the preferred cap-off to an otherwise decent summer.

The door opened and Stan came into the room, a welcome distraction from his thoughts.“Hey, ‘ _roomie_ ,’” Richie said sarcastically as he tucked the pill case into a small pocket on his bag, “I was beginning to think that you would have someone send for your things.” It’d been weeks since they slept in the same room, and Stan cringed at Richie’s words. His standard stiff and defensive _I’m-talking-to-Richie_ posturing was replaced with a sheepish, apologetic nervousness.

“Yeah-yeah. I blame Eddie, for getting his own room,” Stan said as he gave Richie a guilty little smile, “After that came the big room shift. I think maybe we’re all to blame with that, though. People in new relationships get so invested that they neglect their friends.”

Richie knew Stan was right: they were all fools for love. “I never felt like you neglected me, Stan the Man. I’m happy that you and Denbrough like each other. How’s it looking for you guys next year?”

“I think it can work,” Stan said brightly, but his face was cloudy and told a different story.

“…But,” Richie drawled.

“ _But,_ Bill’s bi, and he’s beautiful. and smart. And so fucking… _good_. I’m just worried he’s going to find something better next semester. Something... easier and close to home.

“Hey, hold up. Bi people might have more options but it doesn't mean we’re dropping our drawers for anything that walks by.”

“ _No_ , I know. God, of course I know that. I don’t think he’d leave me _because_ he’s bi. He’s just hot and he works on the paper with all these girls who obviously totally like him. Just the idea of girls hanging all over him makes me feel creepy-crawly.”

“Have a little faith in him. If he’s as good as you think, like fucking _Saint Bill,”_ Richie said, holding up his hands in wonder, “Then it would be total blasphemy for him to cheat.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Stan said, relaxing, “I’m just being paranoid.”

“Of course I'm right, Stanley. _Paranoia the destroyaaa,”_ Richie sang while he flailed his hand, ripping on a very enthusiastic air guitar.

“Richie, you know, when I first met you I thought you were really annoying. And now that I've gotten to know you… I’m _positive_ that you’re really annoying,” Stan said, smiling wide.

“Stanley, that’s the most beautiful thing you've ever said to me,” Richie said, clutching his chest, his voice filled with false raw emotion. He kicked out his leg and tripped Stan, knocking him down on the bed and quickly hugged him from behind so his arms were pinned to his sides.

“Oh God, Richie,” Stan groaned, giggling. “You suck so much.”

 _“Shhhh,_ Stanley, don’t ruin it.” 

* * *

 

The gang gathered next to the ferris wheel on their last night together. Eddie was flushed from the large swallow he took from Beverly’s flask and gripped onto Richie’s torso like a baby sloth. No one was surprised to see the redhead pull the small container of whiskey from her purse, and they each drank a covert toast to themselves. Bev managed to be a civil human being to Greta that evening, which shocked the shit out of Richie. She caught him shooting her a skeptical look while she said something that bordered on _sweet_ to her roommate. Using both hands, she guided his head down to her level and whispered into his ear, _“It’s the same as the shit you do on the last day of high school where you sign someone you couldn't stand’s yearbook like ‘these were some good times, man.’ I secretly hate myself for this.”_

Greta kissed Mike on the cheek before stepping out of line to quickly buy a frozen lemonade before their turn came up. Mike took her absence as an opportunity to lean over to Bev and Richie. “Thanks for being nice to her tonight. I know she’s not really part of _us_ , and truthfully she can be kind of a jerk,” he admitted, laughing, “but I appreciate that you guys can put that aside for me.” Beverly pulled Mike into a bear hug and Richie clapped him on the back.“We’re following _last day of school_ rules here, Mikey,” Richie said, and then he went into an impression of the tiny lady from _Poltergeist_. “All welcome. Alllll welcome. Cross over children--”

“Eww, don’t,” Eddie said, wrinkling up his nose as he escaped from under Richie’s arm, “That lady is so creepy.”

Richie leaned down to look him in the eye. “I know that she gives you the heebie-jeebies, Eds. I’m just trying to keep us on the same fear-level right now.” They inched closer to the front of the line and Richie felt his body involuntarily responding to the threat of being lifted into the air. He tried to slow his heart-rate with deep, measured breaths.

Eddie noticed Richie's breathing change, and his brow furrowed. "Rich, you don't have to be scared. You're more likely to die in a car accident than on an amusement park ride. And I can help you, like last time. It wasn't as scary when I held your hand, right?"

Richie grinned down at him. "So, fuckin', _cute."_

He walked away a step. "Oh, fuck you."

Richie grabbed lightly onto his forearm and pulled him back. "No, don't be ashamed of it. _You,_ wanna save me. You're a foot tall. It's so cute I want to whack my head off of something."

 _"Stop,"_ Eddie said, but he was smiling so hard his cheeks looked like they hurt. Richie looked ahead at the line and saw that Stan and Bill were up near the platform of the ride. Hindsight had taught Richie that the anticipation was scarier than the ride itself so he bit the bullet--he practically dragged Eddie along with him and stepped in front of Bill so they were positioned as the first of their group to board.

“Um, excuse me, cutters,” Stan said huffily as they went by. His left hand was interlaced with Bill’s.

“We aren't cutting, Stanley,” Richie replied, looking up at the tall metal structure, “I’m just trying to get this shit over with.”

Stan smirked. “Oh right, you’re scared of heights. Eddie, you’re so evil.”

Their turn came up, and Richie sat in the car and spread his arms wide for Eddie to snuggle up to him. “Bring it in, kid. You want to protect me. I need you.” Eddie bit down on a smile and slid across the seat. He hugged onto Richie’s midsection as the lap bar clicked in front of them. The ride shifted them up into the air and made a jerky stop to load Bill and Stan into the car in front of theirs. Richie fought the urge to grab the bar and squeezed Eddie instead. He knew what to expect this time around so it really wasn't as scary, though he suspected that sitting close enough to feel Eddie’s heartbeat helped, too

“I’m not actually evil for making you do this again. It’s not so bad, right?” Eddie sounded like he was trying to convince himself as they ascended a few feet more. Richie shook his head at the question, no, it wasn't so bad. He still cringed a little with each rock and creak, but he felt safer and less concerned about his impending death than the first time they rode it. That didn't mean he wanted to look down, though. He slipped off his glasses and guided them into his shirt pocket but Eddie intercepted and put them on. They were huge on his small face. “Wow, you’re really blind, huh?” he said, pulling away from Richie a bit and holding his hand in front of his eyes as he squinted.

“That’s rude, Spaghetti Head. But yes, I am. That’s why I have to wear my contacts tomorrow when I drive you home. It’s tough to be a good driver when your peripheral vision is blurry like a motherfucker.”

Eddie’s face went pensive and he took off the glasses, folded and tucked them into Richie’s shirt pocket. He leaned back into Richie’s chest, mumbling,“I don’t want to go home.”

“I know, kid. I don’t want you to stay there either. It’s just for a week, though.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Eddie said, his voice muffled against Richie’s shirt. The car creaked its way up to the top of the ride and Eddie abruptly pulled away from his side. A bold, determined look stole over his face and he glanced down towards the control booth. Richie wasn't brave enough to check to see what the little guy was preoccupied with down there. “Um, what’s wrong Spaghetti?”

 “Nothing’s wrong. I've just always wanted to do this,” he said huskily as he grabbed Richie by his collar with one hand and the side of his face with the other. Eddie brought their mouths together and kissed him with abandon, like the fucking plane was going down, and Richie matched him enthusiastically as the ride sped up and dipped. He gasped into Eddie’s mouth because he felt the core of his belly falling, falling, almost out of himself. That crazy, disconnected feeling, the one Eddie said was _“like flying,”_ back when they barely knew one another. It _was_ like flying, and Richie realized it was worth the fear and anticipation.

He placed both his hands on Eddie’s face and kissed him like it was going to be the last time they ever kissed. They were spinning up and around and the car rocked and the wind howled past them but all he focused on were Eddie’s hands in his hair, Eddie’s soft tongue. Richie turned sideways in the car, rested his leg across the seat and dragged Eddie closer, into his lap. He forgot himself, forgot everything: how high up they were, where they were going in the morning, that the summer was over. Nothing mattered; nothing existed in the world but the two of them.

A brick smashed through that fantasy when he heard Bev’s voice shout “ALRIGHT, GO FOR IT,” and he broke the kiss to laugh against Eddie’s lips.

“I know it feels like we’re all alone up here, but there’s probably at least a hundred people watching us right now, Eds.”

“Who cares? Shut up,” Eddie said softly but firmly, and resumed kissing him.

_Two very valid points._

* * *

 

Richie was flat on his back in the grass with Eddie sprawled out across his chest. They were waiting for the fireworks to start with the rest of their friends. “So, Eds, you always wanted to make out on a ferris wheel and you got that,” he said softly, playing his fingers across Eddie’s back. “You also want to be jerked-off on a roller coaster but that wasn't in the cards for you this summer.”

Eddie sat up and stole a glance around at the others to make sure no one heard them. “I _don’t_ want to be jerked-off on a roller coaster, you asshole,” he whispered fiercely, pinching Richie on his waist before laying down beside him. “Besides I think kissing on the ferris wheel scratched that itch,” he said quietly to the sky.

Richie rolled over and got close to Eddie’s ear. “See, you _do_ want it. Maybe you just want Marky Mark to do it for you and not me, that’s why you can’t bring yourself to admit it.”

“Shut up!” Eddie cried, exasperated. He smiled tightly and looked ashamed with himself, whispering, “And he doesn't like to be called Marky Mark anymore. He’s a serious actor now.”

Richie let out a belly laugh before cupping the back of Eddie’s head to kiss his forehead. “Oh God, you love him, don’t you? He’s basically a walking, talking _Ab_ , Eds. I can’t compete with that.”

Bill’s voice broke through their little private bubble. “S-so what’s everyone doing next week? I have to m-meet up with the other writers on the paper to get our first issue together.” Richie barely listened to the others as they listed their plans for the week before school started. He watched closely as Eddie sucked on his bottom lip, his eyes going distant.

Mike had to get back to school because football practice started right away. Beverly's aunt would be there in the morning to pick her up and they would give Ben a ride to the off-campus apartment he shared with his track team friends. Stan needed to return home for a week prior to moving into his dorm room, and Eddie absently nodded along with him because he had to do the same. Greta opened her mouth and said something but Richie couldn't hear her. He stared at Eddie’s face and recognized the same look he saw the first day they met: a combination of worry, fear and dread. He heard a whistle and a clap, blinked his eyes over at Stan. “What are you doing next week, Rich?”

Richie sat up a little bit, leaning back on his elbows. “Oh, uh. Crashing at my friends’ off-campus apartment before I can move into my room. All my stuff from last semester is stored there. None of them are getting into town until next week.”

A high-pitched squeal and a small pop sounded in the distance a split-second before a bright flash took over the whole sky above them. Bev’s face lit up and she snuggled back against Ben. “Yay!” The sky exploded with colors and the only sounds they heard for several minutes were bangs and pops. 

Richie went back to his reclined position to watch the show, and Eddie’s hand snaked across the grass to interlock with his. He felt grateful to have his boyfriend so close, and he knew it was probably the last time they’d be together, at least for a while. Facing his fears on the ferris wheel taught him something about their relationship that he hadn't acknowledged before. The sensations and feelings that came along with being close to Eddie were worth all the fear and anxiety he felt when he remembered that the future was uncertain. He brought Eddie’s hand up to his face and kissed it, mouthing _I love you_ over to him.

Eddie beamed as he tipped his head and said, “ _I know_ ,” into Richie's ear.

He promptly brought his mouth to Eddie’s ear. “Eddie, did you just fucking Han Solo me?”

* * *

 

The last morning was crammed full of hugs and tearful goodbyes. Everyone exchanged phone numbers, addresses, and emails. _“I think I’ll miss you most of all, scarecrow,”_ Richie’d said as he laughed at and hugged a weepy Stanley. They all gathered in front of Bill’s van so Mike could take a photo of the group, and he promised to send them each a copy. Eddie was a bigger mess than Stan and got passed around like a rag doll by each of their friends. He told Richie that he was embarrassed to even think about how the picture would develop, because his face was so red from crying.

 Beverly's aunt came to get both her and Ben. Richie was proud of his stoicism throughout the morning, but then cursed himself because he lost his composure when Beverly gave him an extra-long hug and tearfully promised to call him. He ended up crying all over Ben, who picked him up off the ground when they hugged. Bev’s aunt honked when they pulled away. Stanley got a ride home from Bill, and Mike and Greta left in his little red two-seater.

Richie plunked himself down into the driver’s seat of the station wagon and looked at his pink face in the rear-view mirror. “If you told me on the first day that I would be this broken up about saying goodbye to this place, I would have laughed in your face.” Eddie pulled open the passenger door and sat down. He looked a little beat up from the emotional morning, and Richie knew something that might cheer him up. 

 “You can pick the music for the ride,” he said, handing over his CD case, “I have all these CDs, plus there’s a box of cassettes in the back-back, too.” Eddie’s face lit up with excitement and he didn't waste any time. He dropped the CD case and flipped his little body over the middle of the bench seat. Richie watched the top of his head in the rear-view mirror and called out with a hint of embarrassment, “Hey, some of them belonged to my parents before you start making fun of me.”  

He heard Eddie biting back a giggle, and then his head popped up briefly as a copy of Madonna: _The Immaculate Collection_ clattered over the seat. “Your parents like this?” he asked as he leaned his head into the front seat, smiling hard, “because _I_ think you have that tape because you wanted to own it.”

Richie knew he was blushing and turned away from Eddie to roll down the window a little bit. He rubbed his hand over his face and let out an abashed laugh as he said, “I only have that because your mom loves Madonna. At least she seems to like it when I play Express Yourself while I hit it from behind.”

“Okay, that’s it,” Eddie said, resignedly but with good humor. He craned more of his torso into the front seat so his arms hung over. “You have to decide right now,” he said as he smiled sweetly and lifted his hands up and down like he was raising and lowering scales, “If you’d rather _get to_ _fuck me eventually_ , or _be able to_ _continue to joke about fucking my mom_.” Eddie repeated himself for good measure and raised his hand pointedly, “ _get to fuck me_ ,” he said, and then lowered his other hand, “or _joke about fucking my mom.”_

“Damn, Eds. You act like that’s an easy choice,” Richie said, waving a hand at him. “And anyway, you’re just dangling the _possibility_ of fucking you. Do you not understand that I can make a joke about fucking your mom in my head anywhere, anytime and it _won’t ever_ NOT make me laugh?"

Eddie shook his head, chuckling softly as he dropped back behind the seat. “You really are just such a jerk. I know you well enough to know that you just make stupid jokes like that to get attention off of yourself. Fucking my mom really isn't that funny. It’s totally gross.”

“Hurry up and pick out some tapes so you can get back up here. I need a navigator.” Richie said, trying to change the subject. It wasn't like he actually wanted to fuck Mrs. K, just that sometimes his mouth worked before his brain had a chance to chime in with better suggestions. Even if Eddie promised him he’d get laid if he stopped, he couldn't guarantee shit. He listened to the clackety sounds of cassette cases being gathered up and Eddie returned to the front seat with a bundle of tapes tucked in his shirt, revealing his pale stomach. He dumped them out on top of the duct taped leather between them and grabbed one quickly before Richie saw what it was.

The engine sputtered for a good thirty seconds when the key was turned and Eddie looked at Richie nervously as he buckled his seatbelt. “You think the car is going to make it all the way there?” The sputter gurgled and changed to a roar and Richie patted the steering wheel. “She’s never let me down before. So, what are we jamming to, DJ Spaghetti?”

“Something that I’m pretty sure did belong to your dad. My dad liked this album too,“ Eddie sounded wistful as he pushed the cassette into the slot, “But I just want to hear the first song.”

Richie immediately recognized the piano intro and smiled to himself as he pulled the car out of the parking lot and onto the road. He believed that any kid who grew up in the northeast US in the 80’s probably knew the song, it was just one of those things. And it was such a good _road trip_ song, but still managed to remain romantic and sentimental. His Eddie never failed when it came to mood music. The two of them sang along quietly when the lyrics began, and they looked over at each other with softly amused glances.

_….The screen door slams, Mary's dress waves. Like a vision she dances across the porch as the radio plays. Roy Orbison singing for the lonely: Hey, that's me and I want you only. Don't turn me home again, I just can't face myself alone again. Don't run back inside, darling, you know just what I'm here for. So you're scared and you're thinking that maybe we ain't that young anymore. Show a little faith, there's magic in the night. You ain't a beauty but, hey, you're alright. Oh, and that's alright with me…._

As the song played, Richie trailed his eyes across the car and found those Bambi eyes wet and shiny again, locked onto the dashboard. He wasn't sure if it was an overspill of emotion from that morning, or the song, or where they were headed that made the little guy misty, but it pained him to witness it. Richie shook his head and blinked fast because the sight was enough to get him started again, too. “Eddie are you trying to make me cry so I can’t see and crash the fucking car? Going down in a blaze of glory together would be pretty awesome, but I’d rather if it happens when we’re old.”

Eddie wiped his eyes quickly and sniffled. “Ugh, sorry. _No_ , I'm not trying to make you cry. I wasn't trying to make myself cry either. It’s just… _Everything_ , I guess… Plus thinking about my dad. Maybe the song was a bad choice.” He busied himself with rummaging through the rest of the tapes on the seat. Richie knew Eddie was little when his father passed away, but he hadn't said a lot about the man.

“It’s a really good song, Eds. Do you remember much about your dad?”

_….With a chance to make it good somehow. Hey, what else can we do now? Except roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair…._

Eddie looked mildly surprised by the question. He shook his head slowly. “Not a lot. He used to sing when he drove us places -Springsteen, Billy Joel, the Who- and he got really theatrical with it. My mom hated it and would nag at him the whole time, but it was fun. He did it to make me laugh.”

_….Well, the night's busting open, these two lanes will take us anywhere. We got one last chance to make it real. To trade in these wings on some wheels…._

“Of course she hated it, because you were having fun,” Richie said, glaring at the road. His heartbeat sped up and he asked Eddie the question that'd danced around in his mind for the past few days. “Hey, Eds? Do you wanna come stay with me until school starts? We can have another week together.”

_….Climb in back, heaven's waiting on down the tracks. Oh-oh, come take my hand. We're riding out tonight to case the promised land. Oh-oh-oh Thunder Road, Oh Thunder Road…._

Eddie gaped over at Richie and then looked down at his lap. “Like drive there right now? Are you even allowed to bring me with you? I mean, it’s someone else's apartment.”

Richie kept his eyes on the road. “I quote a brilliant and beautiful man when I say: ‘Who cares? Shut up.’” He glanced over and Eddie’s eyes were still narrowed and downcast, and Richie thought maybe he might have fucked up by asking. If they wanted to change directions he needed to take the next exit.

“So, what do you say, Eds? I can drive you back home next week, no sweat. I mean, if you don't want to I get it--”

“Yes,” Eddie said quickly, “I want to stay with you, Richie.” Richie popped on his blinker and sailed them across three lanes of empty highway. When the car was redirected towards his college, he brought his eyes back over to Eddie. The wind was blowing the kids hair around and his face remained flushed from crying but he looked young and happy and free. Unencumbered.

Richie smiled and turned his eyes back to the road. He heard Eddie say, “Thank you. And I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce Springsteen - Thunder Road https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YdhkaPZtQF4
> 
> Princess Leia: I love you.  
> Han Solo: I know.


End file.
